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A Glimpse into Life Vida D. Scudder 221 

Winter Night Ada May Krecker 232 

To Maurice De Guerin 232 

hadow Picture Maude Keller 233 

Themes : 

A Meadow Study Josephine P. Simrall 234 

The Mesa 235 

The Mustard Sarah A. Bixby 235 

Another Little Bird Told Me .... Florence Converse 235 

"Marius the Epicurean" Kate Morgan Ward 236 

Editorial Marion N. Wilcox 248 

Sidney Lanier Virginia Teaman Bemnitz 249 

The Free Press: 

Another Point of View A Daughter, '89. 250 

Things not Mentioned in the College Curriculum . Lilian Miner . 251 

Book Reviews 255 

Exchanges 257 

College Notes 260 

Society Notes 263 

College Bulletin 265 

Alumnae Notes 265 

Marriages and Deaths 267, 268 

Entered in the Post-office at Wellesley, Mass., as second-class matter. 


L. P. Hollander & Co., 

New Cotton 



In designs and colorings never shown before, and confined exclusively to our house. 


]tew Summer 5ilKs and paney U/ooIen /Materials. 


202 to 212 Boylston St. and Park Sq., Boston. 



Light Cedar Boats and Canoes. 


Tennis Goods, Racquets, etc. Skates, Dumb Bells, 
Indian Clubs. Fine French Opera Glasses. Leather 
Dogskin Walking and Exercising Jackets, for both ladies 
and gentlemen, soft as kid, used in riding, skating, etc., 
impervious to cold. 


New Mail Safety Cycles, 

Ladies' Pattern, $100. 


107 Washington Street, - - BOSTON. 


of evepg de§©piptiora. 

The latest in style, best in quality, at moderate prices. 

Gymnasium shoes of all kinds at low prices. 

Special discount to Wellesley Students and Teachers. 

W YE R' 


47 Jemple piaee, B0S50|<. 

Vol. I. WELLESLEY, FEBRUARY 18, 1893. No. 5. 









The Wellesley Magazine is published monthly, from October to June, by a board of editors chosen 
from the senior class. 

Terms, $2.00 per year; single copies 25 cents. 

All alumnae news should be sent, until further notice, to Miss Carol M. Dresser, 93 Tyler Street, Boston. 

Advertising business is conducted by Miss Helen G. Eager, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

Subscriptions to the Magazine and other business communications, in all cases, should be sent to Miss 
Marion N. Wilcox, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

All items of college interest, and communications to be inserted in the department of Free Press, will bo 
received by Miss Annie B. Tomlinson, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

All literary contributions may be sent to Miss Florence Converse, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 


Will you come to St. Mary street with me ? You can do so quite 
safely, now. Ten years ago you could not have gone at all unless you 
were a man ; and then you would have been obliged to seek the company 
of a policeman. 

It is not a pretty street, even to-day, in this year of grace, 1893. The 
houses are small and mean. Some of them are wooden and look as if they 
were rotting away. The street is only two blocks long, but several black 
courts, like snakes, lead off of it, towards — what? We won't explore tliem 
just now. It is not well to walk in St. Mary street without rubbers, unless, 
indeed — but that is another story. You will like to observe the curious 
little shops, with latticed windows; they seem full of strange and somewhat 
unpleasant-looking objects. Do you see the woman rubbing that apple 
before she sells it to the little boy? She is a picturesque woman. Would 
you like to eat that apple ? 


Stop! What is this house ? It stands b}" itself, near a tiny park. Its 
little white steps are clean, there are curtains at the windows, and here ona 
lovely window smiles out into the street a gay smile of scarlet poinsettia 
and clustering ivy. We will go in ! Inside it is prettier than out. See 
the warm coloring, the open fires, the little group of girls, evidently from 
St. Mary street, sitting in low chairs with story-books in their hands. And 
here are two or three young college women coming eagerly forward to give 
you sisterly welcome. 

What! You say you don't care for it? It is too much like what you 
are used to? You would rather have more of the street? Very well; 
come up-stairs to my window. You shall look out of it for a few hours, 
and watch the drama as it unfolds. 

It is entertaining enough for a little while to see the people going in and 
out of the little - shop, and the children playing. Black children, olive-col- 
ored children, pink-and-white (mostly white) children, children in rags, 
children in plush coats, children in pretty much nothing at all — laughing, 
scampering, innocently enough, you think, unless you happen to open the 

Hark ! Another noise. A woman rushes out from one of the courts — a 
handsome woman, young, with flaming cheeks. She shouts, scolds, curses, 
sobs. In about thirty seconds a crowd gathers. The men, as they listen 
to her, all laugh ; the women scowl, and some of them cry. Presently a 
policeman appears. He goes into the court, comes out, laughing too, and 
walks away. The woman has vanished. Shall we follow her ? Be careful 
where you step in the court. Drainage of all kinds covers the ground. 
Here is the room where the noise centres. Two women. The one who 
scolded is scolding still; her head is bleeding, do you see? The other, silent, 
except now and then for a few high, rapid words, presses a child to her 
breast. She is beautiful, this woman, with a dark Hebrew beauty. Her 
eyes are desperate. An artist would see a Mater Dolorosa. There is an 
odd swelling on her forehead. They talk "Jew," the German lingo. We 
understand at last that the husband of the still woman has come in drunk, 
and struck the women with an empty beer-bottle — there are several bottles 
on the floor. She lost her baby a week ago. She has been married to him 
two years ; he has never struck her before. Her eyes are glazed; she does 


not see you as you try to speak a word of comfort. Come away, you can 
do no good. A man passes us in the entry with a pitcher in his hand. " It 
vas only a little drunk," he says, with a snickering laugh. 

Come back to the window. 

It has grown dark; evening has come. Hark! There's a voice. Is 
it scolding this time? No. It is singing a hymn : — 

" Come where the living waters flow, 
Come where the living waters flow, 
Come where the living waters flow." 

The voice is loud and cracked. It breaks into speech now: — 

"The Lord's inside! Come in, come in and find Him! No need to 
stand in the cold when He's got a warm place inside for you to set in an* 
find Him. Where the living waters flow. I've kep' up this meetin' twenty 
years, an' it shall be kep' up after I'm gone. Some one'H provide a lamb. 
Some one'll be at the helium. Some one'll work for General Jesus." 

That is Blind Susan and her Gospel Meeting. Till late at night the 
meeting resounds through the street. At hist all is quiet and dark. All? 
Not quite. In the small house opposite there is a light; you can see it, a 
kerosene lamp. A man's figure bends near it, rocking a little back and 
forth. The lamp will burn, the figure will rock, all night. It always does. 
The man is a Russian Jew. He is doing tailor-work, making a coat for 
some contractor. It is the companion house to that where we found the 
woman. I know the house. The garbage stands in heaps on the floor; 
the sinks are frozen stiff, and there is no way of disposing of the refuse 
water. Who will wear the coat? Your brother, perhaps, or your father. 
If you come to Church with me some morning, early, at half-past six, you 
will see the lamp still burning, the figure still bending and rocking. Some- 
times I have dreamed that it was bending over a shroud. 

Have you had enough of my window? 

Perhaps all this has sounded a little grewsome ; yet life in St. Mary street 
has essential beauty, power, and promise. In order that you may under- 
stand them, let me explain the location and work of the Philadelphia Col- 
lege Settlement for women. 

Thirty years ago St. Mary street, like the old Five Points of New York, 
was a terrible region, a centre of crime and disorder. To-day it is safe for 


young women to live in the street, and to receive their friends there. The 
change has largely been brought about by a small company of devoted 
people, who have bought and controlled tenement-houses, have organized a 
circulating library of good books for the children and a carpenter's shop 
for the larger boys, and have forced the most unruly element to leave the 
street. Something over a year ago these people — the committee of the St. 
Mary Street Library — asked the College Settlements Association to help 
them ; and when the Association agreed, they made ready for us a little house 
so charming and so cheery that it is a delight to live in it, and still more to 
offer its bright hospitality to the neighbors. It is strange to waken during 
the night in a dainty room, and to realize that one short year ago this room 
was the only home of a family of six. The house was opened as a Settle- 
ment last spring; and since then, a few women, sometimes more, sometimes 
fewer, have been living there and sharing the life of the neighborhood. 

The people around are very poor. Indeed, one learns what poverty means 
for the first time in living among them through the bitter winter weather. 
They live huddled together, whole families, sometimes with lodgers thrown 
in, occupying a single room ; they have few clothes to wear, little fuel, often 
nothing particular to eat for days at a time, seldom steady work. They 
belong to the " left-overs," the submerged tenth. One realizes that they 
have sunk to the region of the picturesque as one climbs the sharp curves 
of an outdoor staircase, steps past the red washtubs on the balcony into a 
room whose blue plastering has largely fallen down, showing the timbers 
above, and interviews the occupants — an antique woman, Sphinx-faced, in- 
scrutable, and a group of half-breed children of strange, startling, uncanny 
beauty. Negroes, Jews, Italians, live together indiscriminately in the neigh- 
borhood. When they have a job and are paid for it, they eat ; when they 
have none, they go without. Are they not very shiftless, you ask ? Very. 
Are they not unstable ? In the extreme. Might they not get work if they 
wished? Some could not, but some could. Is not their miseiy their own 
fault? The answer to this question would carry us far afield. These are 
the Idle Poor at the bottom of society ; they correspond, point by point, to 
the Idle Rich at the top. Between the two comes the great body of the pro- 
ductive class, from professional men down through all the ranks of skilled 
and unskilled labor. Separated by this mighty class, come the two ex- 


tremes of society, singularly akin in character and industrial value. Idle 
rich and idle poor alike subsist largely on charity; that is to say, on 
wealth which they have had no share in producing. The charity enjoyed 
by the rich is on a larger scale than that open to the poor. It is usually 
bequeathed to them by dead men, who worked for it ; while that of the 
poor is less pleasantl}* bestowed. Idle rich and idle poor alike are com- 
pletely unskilled in any productive labor. Both are indolent, shiftless, 
pleasure-loving; botli lie abed very late in the morning, and for revenge 
turn night into day; botli can work well "on a spurt," but are a little in- 
jured at the suggestion of steady, laborious employment; both, though lazy, 
have a hundred good qualities; are affectionate, good-natured, merry, 
charmingly companionable. 

Shall we condemn the idle poor? Perhaps; only let us be sure that our 
justice is impartial. And perhaps it would be as well to begin at this end 
of the social scale to practise the maxim which we are fond of quoting at 
the other: " Judge not, that ye be not judged; for witli what measure ye 
mete it shall be meted to you again." 

Perhaps a little story will make you know our neighbors better. 
" Mrs. Meadow has taken a start," was the announcement made at the 
dinner table. "I found her washing 1 her mattress because 'it looked that 
dirty.' What can we do to encourage her?" Consultation follows. It is 
not advisable to give anything to Mrs. Meadow; her possessions are already 
in the pawnbroker's hands; but a judicious loan, followed by repeated per- 
sonal friendly visits, with frank advice on subjects of personal cleanliness, 
may do wonders. We are taken over and introduced to Mrs. Meadow — a 
young black woman, with a merry face, arrayed in one limp garment. The 
furniture of her one room is that which etiquette demands in St. Mary- 
street — a range, a bed, a broken chair, and a baby. Mrs. Meadow is 
highly delighted with the offer of sheets; and when the coarse, unbleached 
cotton is spread over the wide bed, she regards the scene with a satisfied 
" Well, now, them's grand." Seeing that nothing is apparently to follow, I 
ask, with rather hesitating politeness, " Have you no bed-clothes, Mrs. 
Meadow?" "No, miss," smilingly. "And you have no coal?" "No, 
miss." " Aren't you pretty cold these winter nights?" " Well, miss, you 
see I've got the baby, and I hold her close, and she's good and warm," with 


which image of contentment and new suggestion as to the use of babies I 
withdraw, silent. 

Constant visits, interspersed with severe and encouraging remarks, make 
Mrs. Meadow live up to her sheets like the bride to her teapot. The room, 
the baby, and Mrs. Meadow herself are in decent condition, at least half the 
time. To be sure, the father has no work and no visible means of subsistence ; 
but he and the little woman — she is only nineteen — are as gay as the day is 
long, and life is one huge joke interspersed with moving prayer-meetings. 
Once I become aware that Mrs. Meadow's large black toes are protruding* 
plump and bare, under her one garment; inquiry elicits the fact that she 
had but one pair of stockings, which she has cut down "for him," and that 
all her shoes are in pawn. " Most of our things are in pawn," says Mr. 
Meadow, regretfully, and he brings out a large pile of dirty yellow tickets; 
he and she explain them to me, convulsed with laughter. "A table, a white 
spread, blankets, her dress, her flannel skirt, her hat, the baby's clothes, all 
but what she's got on ; and" — mournful climax from Mr. Meadow — "Even 
all my pictures. I paid forty cents for the framing of 'em and I only got 
fifteen cents off 'em." The cloud is short-lived; amusement at my con- 
sternation gives them a delightful half-hour; and when I return with the 
shoes redeemed and a present of a pair of stockings, no words can describe 
the glee of the couple. I wish I were as happy as Mr. and Mrs. Meadow; 
I wish any other friends of mine were as happy. 

Yet let me take care ! I have seen them happy ; I have also seen them 
plunged in deepest woe. I went there the other day. No fire ; floor cov- 
ered with dirty scraps; bed not made; Mrs. Meadow sitting disconsolate 
by an open window, the keen air blowing on her big bare arms. The baby 
— eighteen months — was scolding and flinging its bottle away. "What's 
the matter with the baby? " " I don't know, miss," in disconsolate tones ; — 
"Baby, what do you want, anyway?" "What is in that bottle?" "Tea, 
miss."* " Tea ! Don't you know it's bad for a baby to drink tea? " " Yes, 
miss," submissively. " Why do you do it? " "There wasn't no money to 
buy milk." "How long since the baby had any milk?" "Day before 
yesterday, miss." "What has it had between then and now?" "Tea; 
only yesterday Miss' Hilton she give me a bit o' soup for it." "Mrs. 
Meadow, you sweep this room out clean as quick as ever you can, while I 


go and get some milk for the baby out of this money that I'll advance your 
husband on a job for me." Half an hour sees a greedy, happy baby, a clean 
little room, and a radiant young mother cuddling a sleeping child. 

But the problem of the Meadows is not solved by redeeming a pair of 
shoes, heating a bottleful of milk for the baby, giving Mr. Meadow occasional 
jobs, and paying the wife fifteen cents a day to nurse a sick neighbor. What 
shall be done with them ? They are not bad. It is not the slightest use to 
attribute their destitution to moral depravity. They are no lazier than 
many a fashionable } 7 oung couple ; they are no more incompetent to earn 
their living. Mrs. Meadow will keep herself and her house clean — if she 
has some one gently to remind her of it at stated intervals. Mr. Meadow 
will work — if he can find a job. He is not skilled ; no one ever taught him 
anything. He is not stable; he does not inherit stability. He is not pru- 
dent; what force, of example or teaching, should have made him so? He 
is a child, with the childish virtues of docility, sweet temper, joyousness, 
readiness to work under direction. Has the world no place for him, and 
his foolish little wife ? Seemingly not. Has the world a place for their 
numerous prototypes in polite society? Seemingly — yes. 

What place, alas! for any of these people? Science seems to answer? 
None. There is a funeral in the street to-day ; we know whose funeral. 
The hearse stands alone, waiting ; the driver jokes with the keeper of the 
little shop opposite ; a crowd of children gather about, curious, laughing, 
half-afraid. It is the funeral of Pleasant Poole, a young consumptive girl. 
She was very patient ; she had no friends. One eye was blind, the other 
had a cataract. Her clothes were in pawn, and through the bitter weather she 
wore nothing underneath a thin dress. Her cough was cruel. She lived with 
a woman who "hoarded" her for her work, but when she became too ill to 
work she was not happy. She came to us on the last day of her life and 
sat by our warm fire, and begged to be taken to the hospital. In the after- 
noon she was to go ; but she went " home " instead, to die of sudden hem- 
orrhage. We found her lying, naked, on a heap of rags. She is buried 
to-day, and there are no mourners, though since we are here there are friends 
who give thanks, and repeat under their breath the De Profundis. Science 
found no place on earth for Pleasant Poole. What place would Christ 
have found? 


Such are the people among whom is placed the Philadelphia Settlement. 

What can the house mean to them ? What can it do for them ? 

Little, and much. Little relatively ; pitifully, tragically little, in propor- 
tion to their tragic and unbounded need. Much absolutely, when we con- 
sider that a Settlement means only half a dozen simple lives, lived sincerely 
in the spirit of love. 

It means, first, the presenting to the people an ideal of life and a standard 
of morality which they would otherwise never see at first hand. It means 
showing them gentleness where they know violence, purity where they 
know profanity and obscenity, graceful order where they know chaos. 

It means bringing them, in many cases, actual material help. Marvel- 
ously patient, pitifully ignorant, they lie and suffer speechless. There 
is help to be had, though they know it not ; and in serving as a medium of 
communication between helpless need and remote supply, the Settlement 
finds one of its most practical functions. 

It can, often, find employment for the men and women, and, by constant 
and moral suasion, keep them at it. Sometimes, from a small Employment 
Fund at its disposal, it can even furnish work. 

It can give industrial training, which shall enable the people to get better 
work by and by. A carpenters' shop for the bo^ys, cooking classes for the 
girls, a Sewing Industrial Society for the women. It can furnish all kinds of 
wholesome amusement and occupation, to keep the young people off the 
streets. A library, penny concerts, military drill for the boj'S ; a hall open for 
games or for reading; a stamp savings bank, to encourage thrift; a hero club, 
a choral class. Better still, because less official and more human, it can hold 
open to the people constantly the hospitalit} r of a real home, a centre of 
beauty and friendliness. That this is worth doing no one could doubt who 
should see a set of eager bo} r s of eighteen — wild enough in the street — gath- 
ered around the piano singing hymns, or listening earnestly to some beau- 
tiful old story. Women come to spend an evening round our blazing fire ; 
little children sit contentedly for hours, nursing a yellow kitten ; stray 
callers, desiring advice, or simply hungry for a bit of friendly intercourse, 
drop in and out, sure of unfailing welcome. One cannot measure work 
like this; it is not work, it is life itself. But if life cordial, friendly, grace- 
ful, is worth living anywhere, surely it is worth living where cordiality, 


friendliness, and grace gain from their very rarity a tenfold value and a ten- 
fold power. Surely, there was something worth while in our ten Christmas 
parties ; in the soft and shining Avelcome of our beautiful Christmas tree ; 
in the hushed and awed attention of our little guests as they sat before it in 
silent joy, or listened, rapt, for half an hour to the gentle playing of exqui- 
site music. Sets of little street children, untrained and wild, would look 
with eager interest at photographs from the best pictures of the old, old 
Christmas Story ; would listen, little Jews, Roman Catholic Italians, and 
all, to the Story told in the unapproachable words of the Gospels. One 
need not descend to reach the very poor. If a Settlement shows anything, 
it shows that the best of art, the best of life, they are ready to receive. 
Shall it not be given to them ? 

So much for the immediate practical meaning of a College Settlement to 
its neighborhood. What, now, does it mean to the residents themselves? 

It means broadening of life ; it means experience of life ; it means sincer- 
ity of life. 

Broadening of l.ife. Not among the poor people only. " How you must 
feel your isolation from your own class! "said a sympathetic caller, one 
day, not realizing that she was the seventh visitor from up town who had 
been received that morning by the distracted resident. 

They come, they come ; all classes and conditions, ages and sexes, till the 
Settlement seems an epitome of modern life. Philanthropic ladies come. 
One of them saj's to you, with a sigh : " How do you manage to win the 
confidence of the poor so perfectly? I have tried all my life, and I've never 
succeeded, though I'm sure I have been as condescending as I could be." 
Clergymen come ; sometimes fretful, despondent, questioning the Chris- 
tianity of their fashionable churches, helplessly adrift as to the way of 
salvation ; sometimes inclined to look a bit askance at this new movement ; 
sometimes sources of inspiration, suggestion, and earnest help. 

Students of social science come. They have been known to come twenty 
strong at a time. Their modesty is in inverse ratio to their age. When 
mature, they are our most valued visitors ; when young, they assure us that 
their interest in these problems is purely scientific and untouched by senti- 
ment. "Would you please play a game of checkers with that noisy boy?" 
asked a stern resident, at a critical moment, of a very young student. "I? 


oh, no ! " gasped the answer. " My interest in these matters is entirely from 
the point of view of sociologj\" 

The general public comes. It insists on discussing Woman Suffrage or 
the Elizabethan Drama with you while you are trying in vain to put thirty 
coats on thirty small children simultaneously, without getting mixed. It 
wonders at you ; alas! it pays you compliments. But it gives you sympathy 
and generous faith, and, on the whole, its presence is sustaining. 

Wise men and women come, and deepen the humility and strengthen the 
purpose of women who are trying to do a tiny bit of work in a very big 

Yes, life at a Settlement is broadening, by virtue of the wide contact into 
which it brings the resident with all sorts and conditions of men. 

Also, it enlarges experience. How, do you ask? — but I am at the end of 
my paper. 

Will you take an instance? Here it is : Street-cleaning. 

You remember that I said to you, long ago, that St. Mary street was not 
nice to walk in. Heaps of garbage cover the sidewalk, rivers of drainage 
flood the road. But once, for a little while, it was nice. The Settlement 
wrought the change. With Ruskinian ardor, and under compulsion of sol- 
emn inward vow, it devoted itself during an entire week to the problem of 
cleaning the street. First, came a personal attack. It was a beautiful sight 
to see one of our number, with bonnet and gloves, sweeping the road vig- 
orously. The large boys gathered to help ; one of our friends out of work 
was hired for the roughest part of the job ; the woman from the shop 
emerged, stout and energetic, in apron and turban, and joined in the fray; 
the small girls, fired with emulation, clamored for hot water and scrubbed 
our white steps till they shone. In three hours, one could walk in the 
street without rubbers ; the debris lay in tidy heaps of " nice, decent gar- 
bage," as a friend enthusiastically described it ; and we and our neighbors 
viewed the scene with complacent congratulations. This was the first act 
of the great street-cleaning drama. But the drama is not at an end. What 
shall be done with the rubbish ? 

We allow it to lie unmolested for three days; we then make a raid upon 
the city. The city is courteous. Certainly; rubbish is to be removed three 
times a week. Only, just at present, appropriations for 1893 have not been 


made. Nothing can be done till a meeting of the City Fathers. How long 
will it be ? Oh, not more than ten days. 

What ! wait ten days for that rubbish to be removed ? Lose all the 
effect of our noble object-lesson ? Never ! A family consultation is 
held. "Put the dirt in barrels," it is suggested; then it will not 
deface the street, and we can wait serenely the movement of the 
cit}\ Barrels it shall be ! Nay, an ardent suggestion is made that we. fur- 
nish permanent barrels for the entire street, green barrels, aesthetic barrels, 
uniform barrels, with a Morris frieze painted around the top. This last out 
of special deference to the resident, who has a hobby that high art can be 
brought to the masses. 

But wait ! a difficulty ! Our enthusiasm must pause. This rubbish is 
technically known as garbage. If it is put in barrels the street-cleaning 
man will not remove it; it is not his business to remove anything in barrels. 
The ashman will not remove it; it is not his business to remove anything 
but ashes. Enchanted rubbish ! sacred rubbish ! what shall move thee 
from thy place ? How shall our street be clean? In this conflict of func- 
tionaries some of us are reminded of a summer experience at Wellesley, 
when the rising-bell did not ring and no one came to breakfast till the 
middle of the morning, because the maiden to whose office bells belonged 
was ill, and no one else dared usurp her function. 

Meanwhile, those little heaps remain ; nay, they are becoming scattered 
broadcast over the street. Woe, woe, for Ruskinian ardor and the vow of 
cleanliness! Shall we give up and confess officialism too much for us? 
Or shall we put the dirt in barrels and carefully dump it out again when 
the longed-for dirt-man maybe expected to appear? Or — happy but ex- 
pensive thought ! — shall we have the dirt carted away ourselves ? This is 
the decision. A boy friend out of work is summoned with his cart — one of 
our own Sunday boys. Vigorously he goes to work, ardently he sweeps 
and chops and shovels. The street is clean, for to-day, and, while waiting- 
new developments, we meditate on the substantial reality of dirt and the 
peculiar nature of cit}' action. 

Experience in various lines as unfamiliar as street-cleaning and sometimes 
not so disheartening maybe gained at a Settlement. Yet, after all, the best 
thing that a Settlement offers its residents is not experience, but sincerity 


of life. Sincere lives may be lived elsewhere ; but some of us are forced to 
the conviction that it is not easy to live them nowadays. In a Settlement 
one knows that, whether one achieves much or little, one has at least placed 
one's life at the point of greatest need in the modern world, — between those 
alienated classes which .cry out for a mediator, for that which shall draw 
them together and interpret each to each. Life in a Settlement throws 
away convention and artificiality; at the same time it retains the charm of 
thought and beauty which makes the world worth while. It is a life which 
brings the new, strange sense of perfect freedom. It is a life which can 
realize perfectly, here and now, that social and Christian democracy wherein 
alone lies the hope of future salvation. 



Is there a wizard who can tell 
What fairy drops they use, what spell 
To brew this air? And yet, oh well, 
Such secrets are withholden. 

Ear floats the violet vault, far, far 
Beyond the throne of farthest star. 
Would I, through portal thrown ajar, 
Might spy the dreamland golden ! 


Ada May Krecker. 

Pure soul, thou art thyself the Centaur-youth 
That sought from forest sage the world's hid meaning! 
Startled with life, thou fledst from men, and, leaning 
Thy tired heart 'gainst Nature's, begged for truth; 
And loving her throughout the sad-glad hours 
Of thy spring-time, one day gently averred 
Thy love : " I saw a swallow and I heard 
The humming of the bees upon the flowers." 
Then Nature, too, a new love-longing felt; 
A soul who saw and heard her lightest sign 
Of life was soul so delicately fine 
It must within her own warm being melt. 
Suddenly — thy life-desire was gained, 
And life-enfolding love by thee attained. 



A little child lived in a great lonely country house. A dark wood was 
near it, and the trees around the house seemed to have stepped out from 
the forest. As they grew, year after year, they came closer, until not only 
the shadows but the boughs themselves touched the eaves of the house. 
The child loved the trees. Sometimes she sat under them, watching the 
sunshine chase the shadows, and laughed gleefully. Sometimes she watched 
the shadows creep over the sunshine and slowly come towards the house, 
until she thought the darkness that lived in the wood by day had come out 
for a time into the fields ; and when the shadows had all closed in, some 
one took her up the dark stairway of the old house, and she dreamed about 
the shadows until morning. 

When the morning came she played with the shining myrtle that grew 
under a balsam tree, until she thought the little blue flowers were becoming 
wan and pale. Then she looked up and pulled down the brilliant trumpet 
vines that crept over the old stone house. But the myrtle vines were so 
dark, and the trumpet flowers always seemed to glare at her, and she 
was afraid, and ran into the sunshine to see if they and the shadows would 

When the dark house and the myrtle, the balsam tree and the forest cast 
their gloom all around the child, a look of deep sadness crept over her face, 
like one of the shadows that eat all the sunshine. But her cheek dimpled 
and her mouth laughed, as she chased the butterflies, or lay in the deep field 
grass, with the sunlight all about ; only, the shadows would fall when there 
was sunshine. Even in the open field they came and went over her face, 
until they were gathered up into her eyes, and wonder and awe grew in her 

The violets in the field would not speak to her, and the daisies merely 
nodded ; so the child was lonely and prayed the birds to sing with her. As she 
played with the flowers, or wondered about the darkness in the wood, little 
birds hopped about; they twittered overhead, until her longing for compan- 
ionship with some real living thing almost made her sad, even when the 
birds were singing. Sometimes she lay in the deep grass, perfectly motion- 
less, hoping the birds would think she was a fallen branch ; then they 
would hop over her, perhaps peck her face, twittering all the while as they 


did when they flew among the branches of the walnut trees. But this 
never happened ; and the little child grew among the flowers — tall Easter 
lilies, violets and daisies, myrtle and trumpet vines — into sweet young girl- 
hood. She was so bright and cheerful that people loved to watch her. 
They never saw the shadow in her eyes. 

The sun shone so brightly about her that her friends often called her 
Sunshine. Some one thanked her for the cheer and the gladness she always 
brought with her, and asked her to pray that she might keep her fountain of 
joyousness when the evil daj^s should come, — some one who had seen the 
shadow in her eyes. She laughed; it was -so impossible not to be happy, 
and the memory of nodding daisies and pure white lilies always chased the 

The years passed, and the young girl's face grew more thoughtful. Some 
said it was whiter and purer. 

A woman went back to the old house that seemed to have just escaped 
from the forest. But the dark myrtle vines, with their pale, pale flowers, 
had crept over the lilies ; little bushes from the forest had crowded out the 
daisies and violets; the balsam tree had fallen and dragged down the 
trumpet vines. As the woman walked through the bushes, a shadow crept 
from her eyes all down her face. A little bird twittered in the branches, 
in the evening light, and the shadow that passed over her face left a bright- 
ness in her eyes. 

The woman entered the house and walked up the dark old stairway to 
dream again of the shadows. When the morning came she was still dream- 
ing. The sun shone upon her face and the shadows had crept down the 
stairway. Maude Kellek. 


A Meadow Study. 

A BUTTERFLY alighted on a spray of golden-rod, that bowed for a 
moment beneath his weight, then rose erect again as he sailed away. 
A robin hopped over the ground, his little head perked inquisitively on one 
side, his eyes on the sharp outlook for a stray worm. The would-be musical 
frog, weary of practising his " croak, croak, croak," jumped unceremoniously 
into the stream, which "Splash-ed" angrily and then was still again. From 


the branches of the oak tree a foraging squirrel dropped his nut, which fell 
through the spider's newly completed web, and demolished an ant-hill on 
the ground below. A lazy bumblebee flew by, his gossamer wings looking 
all too delicate to uphold his heavy weight. Somewhere in the green over- 
head a soft " Chee ! chee ! " was heard. A little breeze had lost itself in the 
air and was wandering aimlessly about, disturbing the quiet of the nervous 
leaves. A single white cloud floated in the sky, which bent blue and still 
and changeless over all. 

Josephine P. Simrall. 

The Mesa. 

ALL about me ripples the gray-green barley, stretching eastward to a 
rounding hill where lies a patch of fallen sunshine, — California's 
golden poppies. Far beyond Sierra Madre stands, a gray-blue ridge, snow- 
tipped, against the white-blue sky. To the south, the field lies flat, then 
ends abruptly, and I see 'twixt heaven and earth a narrow band of glisten- 
ing water, — the Pacific. 

The Mustard. 

SUMMER has come, bringing death to the wild, green world. There 
stands the ghost of the March mustard field, a mass of dry, white fret- 
work. Over its myriad fragile twigs the setting sun is darting threads of 
light, weaving a filmy web of rosy glow. 

Sarah A. Bixby. 

Another Little Bird Told Me. 

ALL the sky rained down upon that meadow where the buttercup grew ; 
and the goldfinch in the branches of the one elm looked down 
between the leaves, watching the buttercup as she shivered in the short 
grass. All the sky rained down, such heavy, cold spring rain ; and the 
buttercup cowered and swayed and shook. And the goldfinch whisked a 


drop of water off of his bill and drew his head in under a leaf and meditated. 

Then the clouds went awa} r over other meadows, and the buttercup stood 
straight and miserable; her cup of sorrow was full to overflowing — there 
were three raindrops in it ; but she was taller and straighter than before. 

And down from the one elm the goldfinch flew, and drank the three rain- 
drops up out of the yellow cup, and spread his wings, and flew away to other 

Florence Converse. 


IT is not my purpose to attempt an explanation of the modern aesthetic 
movement. I wish, rather, to call the attention of the readers of the 
Wellesley Magazine to Mr. Pater's great work, Marius the Epicurean, 
and to the aastheticism there expressed. ' Many of you are already familiar 
with the book ; I should like more to know it, for it is itself an expression 
of the beautiful, and it vitalizes a subject that even those most scientific and 
practical should know something about. Some of my readers may not agree 
with me in calling it a great book. There are degrees in greatness, deter- 
mined largely by taste and temperament ; we cannot draw the line exactly 
for one another, but probably we shall agree on general conditions ; for 
instance, that a book to be great must touch some fundamental experience 
or idea in human life, must handle it with insight and appreciation, and 
express it in adequate and beautiful form. I believe Mr. Pater's book does 
this. The consideration of the beautiful touches life more or less deeply for 
us all ; the subject is here treated vividly and poetically — there is historical 
imagination, philosophic learning, and sympathetic appreciation in the work ; 
and, as Mr. Pater is a recognized master of English style, it will not be nec- 
essary for me to more than call attention to the accuracy and beauty of 

There are criticisms to be brought against the book. In this very matter 
of style we can praise it more for beauty than clearness. We do find at 
times long and somewhat involved sentences, — a surprise to those familiar 
with the essays of the author. Again, the philosophy and the thread of the 
story are inclined to interfere, and some may cry out that a philosophical 


treatise and a character-study ought to be kept separate. Others may say 
that, as far as character-drawing is attempted, it is a failure. Marius alone 
can claim to be a character; the others are shadows, or, at best, types, pic- 
tures flashed upon the pages, seen only in relation to Marius. Even Aure- 
lius is brought in to personify a school of philosophy. And Marius himself 
partakes largely of the type ; we feel at times that he stands apart from the 
actual man and expresses merely an idea. His personality illudes our grasp, 
and yet, as we go on, we become sure it is something real. We feel the 
beautiful reticence of the man, and we cannot be familiar ; but, having lived 
through the last days with him, we are thrilled with the touch of friendship 
and kinship in the midst of the mystery. Marius does stand for a phase of 
human experience, a certain tendency in thought and life ; but he is so vivid 
and consistent, answers so well to much in the men we know, that we claim 
him, not as a type, but as a typical character. Those who look for plot in 
the book mistake its idea. There is no attempt at the dramatic; it is lyric 
and philosophic, a study of "sensations and ideas." If it fails to conform 
to any distinct class of literature, we find in itself " its own excuse for 
being;" and objections creep to the background, when we come to know 
the book. 

jEstheticism is Pagan in its essence. Its origin is a form of Pagan phi- 
losophy. It lives only for the present, and is an attempt to press into the 
pleasures of to-day all that life can give. The modern movement properly 
had its rise in Germany, and from Goethe and Schiller came over to us. It 
has passed through many phases. Ruskin valued beauty for what it revealed, 
and saw in the graceful sweep of a tree and in the sunset colors on an 
artist's canvas a deeper meaning. Rossetti mingled with his passion for 
emotional beauty the sense of mystery. Swinburne and Morris give us the 
beauty of sense witli little or no suggestion of spiritual truth. Swinburne 
especially has the hot-house atmosphere suggesting decay. This aesthetic 
movement has affected all branches of art and bears upon the entire mode 
of life. In spite of its abuse it holds a truth, proved by the vitality which 
has caused it many a time to spring up anew. 

jEstheticism was revived and elaborated in the second century very much 
as in our own time. Mr. Pater, in describing the epicurean of that day, has 
given us the modern disciple of the aesthetic school. To understand a phase 
of the nineteenth century you are turned back to Rome. 


In the rich farm country of northern Italy, some seventeen centuries ago, 
stood an old farmhouse, known by the half-mystical, picturesque name, 
White-nights. Our author, arguing from an old German mystic that white 
things are "after-thoughts, the doubles or seconds of real things, and them- 
selves but half real," says that white nights are "nights, not of quite blank 
forgetf ulness, but passed in continual dreaming, only half veiled by sleep." 
And the house was true to its name, — one of those ideal yet natural places, 
which, though impoverished, was " still deservedly dear, full of venerable 
memories, and with a living sweetness of its own for to-day." Here the 
young Marius lived. He was the representative of an ancient family, an 
only child, brought up in near companionship with his mother, a gentle 
mourner, keeping ever alive, as her white hands twisted the purple wool or 
touched her musical instrument, the memory of the elder Marius. 

The strongest influence in this home was religious — the religion of Numa 
"staid, ideal, comely," abounding in form and carefully preserved tradition. 
The spell of this religion was from early times an intimate part of Marius' 
life — he had even thought of entering the priesthood; it was an influence 
with a deep undercurrent of gloom, amounting in his case, at times, to vague 
terror. This approach to morbid, religious idealism was counteracted by 
the intense delight which the young Marius took in outdoor life, his pleas- 
ure's Mr. Pater says, "in the country and the open air: above all the 
ramble to the coast on the marsh with the dwarf roses and the wild laven- 
der, and the delightful signs, one after another, — the abandoned boat, the 
ruined flood-gates, the flock of wild birds, — that one has approached the 
sea; the long summer day of idleness among its vague scents and sounds." 

The aesthetic aim was first clearly presented to Marius in the temple-home 
of vEsculapius, whither in boyhood he had been brought to be cured of an 
illness. During his first night in* that pure retreat, one of the brotherhood 
stood by his bedside, and in loving, musical tones spoke these words: "If 
thou wouldst have all about thee like the colors of some fresh picture, in a 
clear light, be temperate in thy religious motions, in love, in wine, in all 
things, and of peaceful heart with thy fellows'." Then the teacher passed 
from the doctrine of temperance to the further duties and rights of the new 
life: — "to keep the eye clear by a sort of exquisite personal alacrity and 
cleanliness, extending even to his dwelling-place ; to discriminate, even 


•more and more fastidiously, select form and color in things from what was 
less select; to meditate much on beautiful visible objects; to keep ever by 
him if it were but a single choice flower, a graceful animal or sea-shell, as a 
token and representative of the whole kingdom of such things ; to avoid 
jealously, in his way through the world, everything repugnant to the sight." 
This is the formula for the aesthetic life ; this became the dominant rule for 

The death of his mother turned Marius from his serious dreaming to face 
the reality of sorrow. It led also to his leaving White-nights, and going 
down to the old town of Pisa to study Rhetoric and Greek. The interest of 
Marius' school-days centres in his friendship for Flavian, that brilliant fig- 
ure, the incarnation of physical beauty and exuberance of life. The friends 
studied, wrote, enjoyed together, and in Flavian Marius became alive to the 
golden excitement of real life. 

Suddenly on this brightness fell the blight of Pagan death. Flavian was 
stricken with the plague. His intense life made a fierce struggle ; he dic- 
tated a poem to Marius until delirium brought him to the threshold of death. 
After a sultry night of thunder-storm, in the gray dawn of a hot day, the 
end came. 

This death brought Marius the assurance of the soul's extinction. " Fla- 
vian had gone out as utterly as the fire among those still beloved ashes." 
Nevertheless Marius felt a curiosity to know what philosophers have to say 
about that " strange, fluttering creature," the soul. He began his study with 
the school of Hereclitus, which corresponds largely to modern Agnosticism. 
It is a negative doctrine that the objects of ordinary experience, although 
seemingly fixed, are in perpetual change, and therefore any true conception 
of them is impossible. Following on from this is the school with Cyrene at 
the head, Epicureanism. If all things are ever swiftly changing and we 
can know only impressions, this philosophy says, let us make the present 
moment full to overflowing. The fleetingness of life becomes a "stimulus 
towards every kind of activity, and prompts a perpetual inextinguishable 
thirst after experience." We must remember that this philosophy does not 
aim at pleasure, as we often carelessly think, but, to quote our author again, 
it aims to attain" a general completeness of life." It seeks an "insight 
through culture into all that the present moment holds in trust for us, as we 


stand briefly in its presence." This philosophy Marius made his own, and 
joined with it the rule of life he had learned in the temple of iEsculapius. 

Our hero's next step is toward Rome. His life henceforth lies in that 
greatest of cities at the height of its Pagan glory, where art, philosophy, and 
beautiful luxury touch the zenith. 

In Rome Marius met Marcus Aurelius, and, through him and his teacher, 
Fronto, learned the doctrines and the practice of Stoicism. This philosophy 
had cast aside the grim garments it had sometimes worn and appeared 
cloaked almost as Epicureanism. The burden of its teaching was exhorta- 
tion to noble deeds and high thoughts ; it placed its stress on morality. The 
reason for this lay in the aesthetic principle ; by giving duty and righteous- 
ness the highest place in the house of thought, life is made more lovely and 
something is attained in the swift flight of time. 

The truth of this argument appealed to Marius, and he felt that to be 
true to his theory of fullness of life he must enlarge his tenets. He caught 
a glimpse of the mystery, when he that loseth his life shall save it. But he 
could not become a Stoic. The coldness and blindness of that philosophy 
placed an ice-bar between him and its courts. The emperor might sit before 
the sickening scenes of the arena, secure in the heights of his thought ; but 
such indifference was impossible for Marius, who keenly felt the appeal of 
warm, quivering humanity. 

Apart from Stoicism, a second great influence. met Marius in Rome ; this 
was Christianity. On his way to the city Marius had met a member of the 
emperor's guard, Cornelius by name. With this whole-soul, calmly happy 
Roman soldier he formed the second friendship of his life. There was a 
quietness, a hopefulness, and a reserve force in his friend that puzzled 
Marius. Cornelius passed through the hot, brilliant life of Rome and kept 
the air of the May morning. 

The mystery about this man was partly solved for Marius in the experi- 
ence of a memorable day. It was at a time when he had grown weary of 
Rome, philosophy, almost of life ; the old feeling, a longing to escape, which 
he had known from boyhood, had come over him afresh. The friends were 
returning from the country one clear morning, when Cornelius halted at a 
villa and invited Marius to enter. There, amidst the old architecture and 
mosaics, the flowers and the olive-trees, sounded the happy voices of children 


in Christian hymns. The perfect peacefnlness and sanctity of that home 
and the simple faith expressed by the worship in the Catacombs roused 
again in Marius that deep religious feeling, his strongest emotion when a 
boy. His philosophy might teach him that all things were fleeting and 
alike in value, but now he felt anew the instinct for something holier to 
abide forever. 

Marius went often to this home of Cecilia and in that perfect woman found 
new depths of truth and beauty. She and her surroundings were poetry to 
him, — a poetry having its essence in a religion that lovingly regards all life 
and seeks in all the one supreme Love. 

In the midst of these experiences Marius suddenly left Rome, obeying a 
desire to see once more the home of his fathers. For eight days he lived in 
mournful solitude at White-nights, feeling, as it were, dead hands stretched 
out to him from the old clays. Then Cornelius joined him, and the hopeful- 
ness of his friend again touched Marius. Their hope might soon become one. 
They journeyed much about the country, and one night chanced to lodge 
in a little town, consecrated by the blood of the young martyr, Hyacin- 
tlius. The friends walked out early in the morning; the air was still and 
heavy; an unnatural hush oppressed the earth. Suddenly came the earth" 
quake shock. The populace, already stirred up against the Christians 
through the visitation of the plague, believed them the cause of this fresh 
disaster, and in a paroxj'sm of terror and passion rushed upon a little assem- 
bly at morning worship ; the blood of new martyrs stained the soil. Among 
the prisoners taken were Cornelius and Marius. Because of their rank they 
were sent to Rome for trial. 

It became rumored that one of the prisoners was not a Christian, and 
Marius knew the value of a bribe. He had met his supreme opportunity. 
"We wait for the great crisis which is to try what is in us; we can hardly 
bear the pressure of our hearts, as we think of it ; the lonely wrestler, or the 
victim, which imagination foreshadows to us, can hardly be one's self; it 
seems an outrage of our destiny that we should be led along so gently and 
imperceptibly, to so terrible a leaping-place in the dark, for more, perhaps, 
than life or death. At last, the great act, the critical moment, comes, easily, 
almost unconsciously. Another motion of the clock, and our fatal line — 
the 'great climacteric point' — has been passed, which changes ourselves or 


our lives." A few quick moves and Marius bad freed his friend. Cornelius,, 
unconscious of any sacrifice, went on happily to Rome to prepare defence 
for his less fortunate comrade; Marius remained a prisoner, charged with 
crime. The exposure of the long marches soon broke the latter's health, 
and he was left behind in a rude Christian village to die. 

" He awoke to consciousness after a severe attack of fever, lying alone on a rude bed, 
in a kind of hut. It seemed a remote, mysterious place, as lie looked about in the silence; 
but so fresh (lying, in fact, in a high pasture-land among the mountains) that he felt he 
should recover, if only he might just lie still long enough. Even during those nights of 
delirium he had felt the scent of the new-mown hay pleasantly, with a dim sense for a moment 
that he was lying safe in his old home. The sunlight lay clear beyond the open door; the 
sounds of the cattle reached him softly from the green places around." 

In spite of his suffering body his mind was vividly active. He lived over 
his life again ; and when he came down to this last experience, and thought 
how it must end, unaided as he was, "and that the moment of taking final 
account was drawing near, a consciousness of waste would come, with half- 
angry tears of self-pity, in his great weakness, — a blind, outraged, angry 
feeling of wasted power, such as he would have himself experienced stand- 
ing by the deathbed of another, in condition similar to his own." And then, 
amidst the "strange loneliness like physical darkness " that crept over him. 
he became conscious of an "amplier vision " toward which his education had 
been tending; he felt something of the rhythm of the universe and of the 
personal hope that holds us in it in our places. 

.As phvsical exhaustion increased, deep thought overburdened him, and he 
found comfort in calling up the faces he had loved in life, and "in the bare 
sense of having loved he seemed to find, even amid this foundering of the 
ship, that on which his soul might assuredly rest and depend." At length 
he woke one morning from sleep to find the peasant people kneeling about 
him. He saw the sun beyond the doorway lie " heavy and full ; " he had 
always thought death would be less terrible in the sunshine. The sacred 
wafer was placed on his lips; he was helplessly weak. In the gray evening 
of that day the simple folk bore him away in secret and buried him with 
Christian prayers, believing that he too would be held a martyr by the Lord. 
I have tried to outline Marius' life and character, and have quoted largely 
Mr. Pater's words as best expressing his own idea. The delicate shades of 
thought and feeling and many of the significant experiences have been 


beyond my power to introduce ; but the beauty and purpose of the author's 
attempt, I trust, have been suggested for fuller study. 

We turn from the written page to our own souls, and recognize that re- 
gard for the aesthetic is not a mere fashion of the day. Whatever the beau- 
tiful is, and however differently our connection with it is conceived, the fact 
of its influence upon human life remains. We acknowledge its power, 
whether the conceptions we hold of it come through the senses alone, or 
whether we go further and believe that the beautiful, broadly interpreted, 
is due to our instinctive recognition of the fitness of tilings, the harmony 
of the universe, our part in the thought of God. What we must guard 
against is the error that transforms the love of beauty into sestheticism, 
placing the delight of the senses above the dictates of conscience. However 
attractive this mode of life and its philosophy appear, the point of view is 
wrong, as is proved by the effect on character. Marius's life was weak in 
just the points where sestheticism fails. He lacked conviction, action ; his 
existence was passive and self-centred. Instead of attaining the heaven 
which was the birthright of his nature, he wearied his spirit in attempts to 
satisfy his aspirations with a passing loveliness. 

There are two tendencies in aestheticism, and one of the two courses must 
be followed : on the one side is the path tending towards mere animal 
pleasure, the sensuous whiclj becomes sensual, the craving for experience 
which at length delights in disease and decay ; on the other, that which 
leads to the world of spirit, rising far beyond aestheticism itself towards the 
life alone satisfied in the union of all goodness, truth, and beauty — in God. 
Marius followed this higher way, and readied the uttermost limit of his 
purely aesthetic ideal ; he had at length touched the life-thought of the 

Kate Morgan Ward. 


AT an early meeting in January, the faculty of the college appointed a 
committee to prepare a letter to Professor Horsford's family, expres- 
sive of their grief at the loss of their great-hearted friend, and stating what 
they deeply felt in reference to his unique relation to their work. 

The following letter, drafted by Professor Bates, was unanimously adopted 
as a just expression of their feeling, which is shared by Wellesley's stu- 
dents and friends. It is published by permission. 

To Mrs. Horsford and Family. 

Dear Friends : — 

It is in the sympathy of a great grief and a great love that we venture to come 
to you in these earlv days of your bereavement with an attempt to express, what 
we know well can never be adequately expressed, — the gr'aciousness of that 
brotherly relation maintained by Professor Horsford toward us, the Faculty of 
Wellesley College. 

We feel that we can bring to you, for whose sorrow our hearts are moved to 
deepest tenderness, no truer comfort, under Heaven, than this assurance of the 
beauty we have seen, and the wisdom we have known, and the goodness we have 
experienced, in him whose Happy New Year is immortality. That tent of 
earthly being, which the ever-gallant spirit struck so suddenly, in a night and a 
day, as if eager for the new, divine adventure, has sheltered so many human in- 
terests, so many individual fortunes, that we would not assume too large a place 
for Wellesley in the generous heart ; and yet so freely has Professor Horsford 
given to us of his wealth, his care, and his benignant presence, that, while we 
realize his life belonged to many, and most of all to his beloved home, we may 
be forgiven for feeling that it also belonged to us, and that our loss and mourning 
are second to none save yours. 

It is not chiefly his beneficence toward the institution which we serve that this 
letter would commemorate, although we love our college so well that her pros- 
perity is our own, and we bear a sense of personal gratitude toward those who 
extend her resources and enlarge her opportunity. Wellesley has known no 
friend, with the shining exception of her first two friends and founders, so liberal 
as Professor Horsford, whose name will be forever honored in her grates. He 
has richly endowed her library, he has provided a fund for scientific apparatus, he 
has established for thirteen professorial chairs and for the presidency the grant of 
the Sabbatical year, with a system of pensions for retired officers. 


These greater gifts are widely known ; but few know and perhaps none could 
perfectly enumerate the many, many lesser gifts to which so much of the whole- 
someness and joyfulness of Wellesley life is due. Electric lights in library and 
reading-room, fresh air in dining-hall and chapel, comforts and delicacies for the 
hospital, countless repairs and improvements throughout the college buildings, 
testify to his unwearied watchfulness and care. Norumbega Cottage celebrates in 
name the champion of the Vikings, her frequent and most welcome guest, whose 
ready hand contributed largely toward her erection, and whose chivalrous heart 
took delight in the luxurious furnishing of the presidential suite of rooms. The 
library of North American languages, a collection so unique as to be of inesti- 
mable value, and destined, as its founder earnestly hoped, to serve, when time shall 
be ripe, as basis for fresh researches into the origin of speech, stands as a memo- 
rial of the enthusiastic philologist, eager to promote this branch of learning in 
Wellesley, and warmly interested in seeing the manuscript treasures of the collec- 
tion already taking shape for the press. Statues and pictures speak of the beauty- 
lover; gymnasium, as well as laboratories, rests under obligation to the man of 
science, and, indeed, it would be difficult to find any nook of Wellesley life or 
work into which his manifold sympathy has not entered with results of most 
efficient aid. 

As president of the board of visitors, as chairman of the library council, Pro- 
fessor Horsford served the college ably in official capacities, and as honorary 
member of the class of '86 he became allied to the student-life of Wellesley in a 
way singularly close and beautiful. Throughout the undergraduate and graduate 
years, even in this recent Christmastide, he was still devising new and delicate 
surprises for his class. Some of his most valuable gifts to Wellesley were pre- 
sented in the name of 'S6. And outside the favored Order of Marguerite, many 
were the students who knew the bounty not only of his purse, but of his golden 
sympathy and friendship. 

Assuredly all this is ample reason why the faculty of Wellesley College should 
lament the loss of Wellesley's benefactor, but deeper than all this is our sense of 
personal bereavement. It is our friend whom we miss as we walk these halls so 
often brightened by his genial smile, so often echoing to his cordial greeting, — a 
friend who showed himself so friendly, the well-spring of a thousand courtesies 
and kindnesses, the source of an unfailing encouragement and inspiration to us 
all. He cared greatly for our work, studying it, fostering it, providing for it 
space and opportunity ; but he cared yet more for the life upon which the work 
must rest. 


In establishing that wisest and most significant of his endowments, the grant of 
the Sabbatical year, he strove to secure for those whom this great privilege em- 
braces the double blessing of mental enrichment and refreshment. Laying down 
the condition that the year be spent abroad, he would prompt us to the highest, 
uses of our freedom. In his further condition, that the privileges of the grant be 
allowed only to women, he gave evidence of his faith in woman's intellectual 
sincerity and ability. We felt with profound gratitude that Professor Horsford 
recognized, as few recognize, our serious purpose as scholars, — that he under- 
stood, as few understand, how surely our lasting efficacy as teachers must de- 
pend upon the breadth and depth of our own culture. If the truest friend is he 
who feels the deepest need, quickens the highest aspiration, who points to the 
noblest goal, and cuts away the barriers that intervene, such a friend has the 
Wellesley faculty possessed in Professor Horsford. We know it now ; but we 
shall know it better as the years go by, — the years in which, while we shall miss 
at every hand his word of counsel and of cheer, we shall be reaping more and 
more abundantly the harvest that he has sown for us, — harvest of intellectual 
opportunity which we would transform for Wellesley into the bread of intellec- 
tual life. 

And yet this is not all. With his great tenderness of nature our friend realized 
that we were often weary, often conscious of the burden and heat of the day. 
We were living among our students, among our books, under the constant wear 
of academic routine. We needed, as other women need, rest and beauty and the 
sense of home. All these he gave us in the great surprise which he was so happy 
in planning and making ready, nothing concerning it being too magnificent 
for his liberality, nothing that related to our comfort or convenience too minute 
for his personal consideration. With characteristic munificence, and yet more 
characteristic comj^rehension of the want, he bestowed upon us the suite of rooms 
culminating in the exquisite Moorish parlor, where the benediction of his pres- 
ence will linger long. 

But even more than all this, he was our friend. He gave himself to us. He 
let us know the independent mind, the great and gentle heart, the onward-faring 
spirit. More than for all his gifts, we are thankful for his friendship, — for the 
vision that we had in him of gracious Christian life. 

We would, then, beg that you, who knew him best and loved him most, will 
accept the deep and reverent sympathy of us who knew him well and loved him 
much. We pray that divine consolations may sustain you in this present distress 


and desolation, and that your hearts so heavily bereaved may look beyond this 
separation, which endures but for a moment, to the sacred hope of heavenly 

Signed in behalf of the Academic Council by 

Helen A. Shafer, President, 
Julia J. Irvine, Secretary, 
Sarah F. Whiting, 
Katharine Lee Bates, 
Helen A. Webster. 

Signed in behalf of the Faculty by 

Maude Gilchrist, Secretary, 
Emily Jones Barker, 
Ellen F. Pendleton. 



TO all readers of the Wellesley Magazine, whether subscribers or those 
who show their abundance of college spirit by borrowing their neigh- 
bor's copy for perusal — to all I would make an appeal with all possible 

It has already been suggested in the Magazine that patronage of our 
advertisers should be a matter of honor with every Wellesley student. But, 
ignoring, for tbe present, the higher question of honor, let us consider the 
lower but very practical one, — of the bearing of this matter on the success 
of our future publications. Simply stated it is this : Lack of recognition 
of present advertisers means that their names will not appear in future pub- 
lications. The people who use our advertising columns are business men 
who will continue their patronage only as long as it pays. If they have 
spent money for that which has brought no return, we have no right to 
expect them to do it again. It has been discovered, during the past year, 
that as a college we do not inspire among Boston advertisers the confidence 
which we ought. A reform among us should be a matter of personal 
solicitude to every student who belongs to any class or organization which 
will sometime have the responsibility of any of our publications. 

To show definitely what I mean as to the present state of affairs, I would 
like to ask how many girls who have purchased, during the college year, 
umbrellas, skates, art materials, gloves, veiling, stationery, jewelry, books, 
drugs, millinery, desks, tables, or chairs, have noticed in our pages the estab- 
lishments where these articles could be obtained, in many cases, at a 
special reduction. 

My request is, therefore, that we give, as far as is practicable, our exclusive 
patronage to our advertisers. By this I mean that we give them at least a 
chance to show us what they have to offer. If they have not at a reason- 
able price what we want, we are under no obligation to purchase of them. 
If we would but give them this chance, the whole problem would be solved ; 
for the concerns represented are in eveiy case standard and reliable, so that 
a beginning of patronage would mean a continuation of it. 

So, then, as a summary of the practical suggestions on a very practical 
subject, may I request, — 


First : That every one intending to make a purchase of any kind what- 
ever consult the business directory of the magazine for information as to 
where it may be obtained. 

Second: That she go to the places mentioned, state that she is from 
Wellesley, so that it may be appreciated that the advertisement has been 
at least read ; and, finally, that, if practicable, she there make her purchase. 

Mabion N. Wilcox. 


(On reading the story of his life.) 

When thou thy days to art didst consecrate, 

And turned from all the world could offer thee, 

To dwell in tents with pain and poverty, 

That so thy life with lofty song might mate — 

When thus thy soul did find its high estate, 

From worldly fetters by thy will set free; 

And thou didst tell the thoughts God whispered thee 

To men who for thy message would not wait; 

Didst see in vision sweet of future days, 

What gave thee strength to struggle on, despite 

That goal of death and dreary lack of praise, 

And strike Life's chords in harmony aright? — 

Didst see fame won and, dearer sight by far, 

Men striving right, with thee for guiding star? 



£0e Sree (press. 


It is with interest that some of us, who can take a retrospect of a few years 
since graduation, notice what attitude those who are about completing their 
college course take towards the various callings in life. Undoubtedly, no ques- 
tion in all the four years presents so difficult a solution as the one which confronts 
the woman on the day which bids her go forth and take her place in the work of 
the world. " How may I render a most fitting return to my parents for the 
sacrifices they have made for me? How may I use my attainments most wisely? 
How honor most my Alma Mater? " 

We have been prompted to a more honest consideration of this first question 
after reading in the December number of the Wellesley Magazine the reply 
to the article in the Congregationalist upon the growing tendency among 
college women to seek their fortunes elsewhere than in the home. We do not 
write in a controversial spirit, nor do we deny the force and truthfulness of many 
statements of the writer. Doubtless, to many of us, similar thoughts have come 
with less courage to utter them. But may we enter a plea for the home? 

No girl who left a home to enter college can deny that her absence of four 
years cost her parents many a sacrifice. In many cases a sacrifice of money, in 
many cases a sacrifice of love, in more cases a sacrifice of both. These four 
years are among the most attractive years of their daughter's life, not for the 
vision of " bright eyes and pink cheeks," which she may offer each day, but years 
of business cares and unremitting household duties are leaving their traces upon ' 
the devoted parents who have for years been using careful thought and manage- 
ment to surround their children with comforts and advantages, and the buoyancy, 
cheerfulness, and keen interest in current matters, which are common to youth, are 
a healthful relaxation to over-wrought nerves of both father and mother. A 
sense of companionship, too, is daily more evident with the daughter ; for she has 
left behind her childhood, and is fast gaining maturity of thought and feeling. 

But we do not want to be misunderstood. We would use all reasonable 
influence in persuading parents to spare a daughter for these four years. But 
should not our relations with our home after that time receive our most careful 
consideration? If the home is in need of our financial aid, the problem is simpli- 
fied. We must seek to do our share, even though it be for personal support 
alone, wherever the best opening can be found. But if it is a matter of personal 


independence, then we would urge that every means of gaining that independence 
be exhausted before widening further our relations with the home. It is indeed 
painful to find how four years can wean us away from the home interests. We 
feel our aspirations not understood, and we, in turn, are not in touch with what 
most concerns our family. Many adjustments have to be made, and it does not 
harm that our preconceived ideas of the duty to ourselves must be changed. But 
it is surprising with how much encouragement our ideals do meet when once we 
try to get into harmony and sympathy with our environment. 

No ties on earth are so sacred as those of our home ; no pain so keen or lasting 
as when the separations arise ; no remorse so unrelenting as failure in doing our 
utmost for the parents who are the centre of our home. The fast-gathering gray 
hairs, the failing eyes, the weakening nerves, all are painful to observe ; and it is 
to be devoutly hoped that our college training is not unfitting us to consider the 
changes which the years quickly bring in these days of strong competition and 
high pressure of life. 

It is no easy decision to make, to return to what seem the uneventful routine 
days of home life rather than enter upon more conspicuous duties. But every 
daughter at home can testify to no lack of opportunity to use her every attainment 
and accomplishment, and often, not without its financial return if desired. Not 
to revolutionize but to sympathize with the life of her family and community will 
be her most helpful work, and through this medium most inviting fields will open. 

How can we reflect more honor on our Alma Mater than in proving a source 
of strength in the home ? 

A Daughter, '89. 

The graduate looks back to college life not merely "with mingled feelings of 
pleasure and regret," — to quote the Valedictorian, — but with critical survey of 
opportunities used, misused, or neglected. The longing to live the years over 
again is less strong than the longing to help others use like opportunities. 

In the life of the world most women need not so much intellect as culture — 
that American-Athenian term, which let us analyze to please ourselves. Does 
not the culture of our ideal woman include wide information, quick insight, true 
reasoning, taste in all matters, graceful manners, and a body well cared for and 
well clothed, and, most of all, a great loving, self-forgetful heart? There are in 
college life many helps to this culture waiting to be used. 

The power to develop culture depends, not chiefly but primarily upon the 


body ; and in the first place must the body be made an object of care. Such 
waste and such misuse of the higher faculties result from lack of vigorous health 
that to spend the time necessary for purifying blood and strengthening muscles is 
genuine economy for mind and morals. General health must depend not nearly 
so much upon a physician as upon one's own management. 

A knowledge of anatomy and physiology, supplemented by a thorough 
acquaintance with the peculiar needs of one's particular body, forms a foundation 
for such a use of the body as may make it an efficient servant, no longer causing 
pain and hindrance. A year out of college, a study dropped, are not dear prices 
to pay for health. Surely one ought not to grudge care in clothing, exei'cise, and 
food, denial of injurious indulgence. Nor can" the daily walk fail to give far 
more than mere bodily vigor. To Wellesley graduates, some of the most beauti- 
ful memories of life are of Wellesley woods and fields. The mind's gallery is 
filled with bits of lovely landscape worth more to us than all the paintings of 
Eui - ope, because they are ours, and because we, in some degree, share their 

You Wellesley students will be glad in future years for the moments of atten- 
tion you have given to the pictures and statues hourly passed. You will wish to 
have a clear remembrance of all famous men and women whom you saw and 
heard at college. You will wish that you had kept of such a written record, how- 
ever brief. 

Yet one goes to college chiefly in order to do the studying prescribed, and no 
other opportunities used can compensate for neglect in this line. The work can- 
not be too earnest. This you realize, and this the college constantly urges. 

Will time be left for anything else? " The secret of success is concentration." 
To learn the best use of one's individual body is not more difficult nor more 
important than to learn the use of one's own mind. That mode of study which 
gleans most from the work is the same mode which leaves most time for leisure. 
The many lines of work offered tempt one to plan a year whose every moment 
has a duty waiting for it. But in after life one is not ashamed of not knowing; 
but of not knowing, with a grasp of the mind, both form and soul of the subjects 
one pretends to know. 

But you will realize, if you have not already done so, that not beauty of nature, 
nor grandeur of knowledge, but people, make to you and always have made, the 
chief part of life. Times without number there will flash across your mind words 
and acts of college associates. You will begin to realize their influence over you. 
You will regret that you did not form more and firmer friendships with those to 


whom you were drawn. There will be memories of love, prompted words and 
trivial kind deeds in your behalf, which will wear a halo for you through eternity ; 
and you will wonder if such thoughts of you can be enshrined in any heart that 
knew you. 

Lilian Miner, '88. 

The recent articles in the Free Press on college friendships have attracted our 
attention, not only because of the subject of which they treat, but because they 
suggested once more to our mind an evil which is prevalent in all colleges, — an 
evil which, we are glad to think, is not so great here in the Wellesley world as it 
is in many another, but which is yet serious enough to demand our attention for a 
few moments. 

Whether the Wellesley girl believes in making the best and most of those 
friends whom circumstances throw in her way, or whether she believes in posing 
in the first floor centre, and, adorned with a large placard which reads, " Wanted, 
a friend, none but those having good recommendations need apply," awaiting the 
coming of her " eternal affinity," still, we must believe that her ideal friendship is 
high. Her friend is an inspiration, a help, and a blessing to her. Her dreams 
of true comradeship, of greatest congeniality, are realized in the friends in whom 
she finds and to whom she gives assistance and sympathy, and with whom she 
passes many of those hours which will stand out brightly in her little book of 
college remembrances. 

Because the Wellesley girl has this high ideal of a friendship, and because she 
so often realizes it, is it not a disgrace to our students, to our college, that the 
sickly sentimentality of a boarding-school should be carried out in the use of the 
word, and in the fact that there are in college, "crushes"? A girl who makes 
a practice of encouraging such a weakness in a susceptible girl, who is proud of 
the fact that her crushes cannot be counted on her fingers, and who glories in lead- 
ing an impressionable girl on, until Miss Impressionable tires her, when she un- 
ceremoniously casts Miss Impressionable aside to make room for the next victim, 
is not a girl who is an honor to Wellesley College. Though she be a girl of 
talent or even, as sometimes happens, of genius, still Wellesley does not need 
her, and she may expect from her Alma Mater little but contempt. Weak and 
superficial in her emotions, and frivolous, probably, in her ideas, she is weak 
morally; and the girls who fall under her influence, though little can be said in 
favor of them then, are, nevertheless, entitled to some pity. 

Cannot these things be changed? Is foolish sentimentalism a necessary adjunct 


of a college woman? Can we not seek higher education and the friendship of 
others without falling a prey to a college '■'•crush"? If these unwholesome 
attachments were constantly frowned upon, if the girls who encourage them could 
know the estimation in which they are held, and if those who have unfortunately 
contracted the disease were at once quarantined and all proper precautions taken 
to prevent the spread of the malady (and it could be done, for our college physi- 
cians are most skilful in the quarantine line), — if all these matters were so arrang- 
ed, could "crushes" not be exterminated, or at least shipped to some prepara- 
tory school where the students could take them as they take whooping-cough and 
so be proof against ( them when they enter college? 

There is, also, in connection with this, a lesser evil which springs from a fun- 
loving, joking disposition. Now we are glad to say that we believe we can take 
a joke. Still, there is a limit even to jokes; and when the objectionable word 
" crush" is applied indiscriminately to college friendships, we feel that the limit 
has been reached. Such a mistake might sometimes be forgiven, but when 
upper-class girls consider it " fun" to refer to friends as being mutually crushed, 
there is a good deal to forgive. There are, we firmly believe, as true, as noble, 
as disinterested and lasting friendships formed in college as in any place in the 
world. Why, then, degrade them? Why make friends uncomfortable and dis- 
gusted by referring to them in this childish way? If it is a joke it is a very poor 

Let us not only drop the word, but let us discourage the idea. Then will we 
have eliminated even the shadows of sentimentality from our affections, and our 
friends will be, more than ever, those in whom our trust is unbounded, to whom 
we give the best of ourselves ; those who make us better and nobler every day 
and who are to us, in truth, " gifts from God." 


More than one Wellesley girl was filled with pride during the recent examina- 
tions because of the evident confidence placed in the students, and the spirit by 
which that confidence was met. Alas, that pride must so soon have a fall ! The 
writer occupied one of the back seats in a moderately large class but a short time 
ago, and was shocked to see four different girls refer to the text-book during the 
recitation. In one case this was done repeatedly. There was evidently little, it 
any, care taken to keep this mode of procedure from the knowledge of the mem- 
bers of the class. What is the explanation? Wellesley girls may sometimes fail 
in attaining their own ideal of that perfect honor which they admire ; but it must 
certainly be true that, as a class, they despise a departure from every instinct of 


honor, which would be condemned in a child. It scarcely seems possible that 
the feeling of the majority is so little known, that any girl should be willing to be 
seen taking such a course ; and yet not the possibility alone, but the fact, is beyond 
question. Have we failed to make our position clear? Let us see that the future 
records no such failure. 

. M. A. S., '93. 

QSooft (Re&ieiO0. 

The Children of the Poor. — Among the valuable books which eighteen 
hundred ninety-two has brought to the world, and more especially to the lovers of 
social questions, not the least valuable is " The Children of the Poor," by Jacob 
Riis. Mr. Riis's name has been familiar to all since the publication of " How 
the Other Half Lives," which brought many a revelation to members of " The 

In this new book, Mr. Riis is dealing, as he was in his earlier work, with those 
subjects with which he is thoroughly conversant. "The Children of the Poor" 
is written along the same line as was " How the Other Half Lives," but deals 
with the younger members of the Other Half, — the " little fractional superfluities," 
as Dr. Holmes might call them. The opening sentence in the book shows its 
object and importance: "The problem of the children is the problem of the 
State." Mr. Riis draws many an attractive picture of the little street Arab, whose 
generosity is often equaled only by his pugnacity, and whose "badness is as spon- 
taneous as his goodness." He dwells at some length upon the factory and com- 
pulsory education laws, and is especially severe in denouncing those manufac- 
turers who willfully employ children under fourteen. "Poverty and child-labor," 
says Mr. Riis, "are yoke-fellows everywhere." And again: " Factory law has had 
little effect in prohibiting child-labor in the manufactories of New York City v 
although it may have had some in stimulating attendance at night-schools." 

"The immediate duty," says our author, "which the community has to per- 
form for its own protection is to school the children, first of all, into good Ameri- 
cans, and next, into useful citizens." He shows the good which is being accom- 
plished in these schools; how the cleanliness which is there taught the child has 
not only its immediate effects, but often helps to revolutionize the home. This 
is particularly true among the Italians. Many of the children are very fond of 
going to school. One little boy's mother had to whip him to keep him from 


starting at six o'clock in the morning to the kindergarten. " The kindergarten," 
according to Mr. Riis, " is the city's best truant officer." 

Among other agencies working effectively for the good of the children are the 
Fresh Air Fund and the "Boys' Clubs," which latter Mr. Riis considers very 
potent factors. "It is by boys' clubs that the streets are hardest hit." Three of 
these have been started, he tells us, by the " Ladies of the College Settlement." 
The Pleasure Club, a local institution which had the enviable reputation of being 
the " toughest club" in the neighborhood, sent a delegation to the College Settle- 
ment to say that they would like to reorganize and form a club such as the ladies 
were starting. 

One of the most pitiful chapters is that upon the children with no homes, and 
the following little story is told : A little newsboy fell in a fit by the Brooklyn 
bridge. He was carried into a waiting-room, but before the ambulance arrived 
he had regained consciousness and was off. 

"Who was he? " was asked of the woman at the news-stand. 
" Little Malier it was," was the answer. 
" Who takes care of him ? " 

" Oh, no one but God, and he is too busy with other people to give him much 

You may close the book and lay it aside, but the childish figures will be ever 
before your eyes. Mr. Riis has given us, in his strong and forcible simplicity, 
the old, old call from Macedonia. There are many people now giving their lives 
to the children, but still the schools will not accommodate all, and then there is 
always room in the street, and, eventually, in the Potter's Field, or jail. 

Still, it is a more hopeful picture than that presented by " How the Other Half 
Lives," for our heroes and heroines are children, and we feel that there mav be a 
hope and a bright future for each one, if his chance come not too late. 

Helen Marie Bennett. 

Jane Field. — Miss Mary E. Wilkins has written her first novel, and its 
appearance from month to month in " Harper's Magazine" for eighteen hundred 
ninety-two has been watched with much interest. The author had proven herself 
capable of writing short stories which showed wonderful skill in character-draw- 
ing, in word-painting, and in the art of simplicity. It was but natural, therefore, 
that people should watch eagerly to see if she would meet with as much success 
in her novel as she had in her previous literary ventures. 

"Jane Field" has been well received, but still it must be admitted that it is 


inferior to Miss Wilkins's short stories. Handled as Miss Wilkins handles it, there 
is hardly enough material for a novel ; and it becomes a»" short story elongated." 
The main incident, the amount of it and its character, is not that of the novel; 
and the minor incidents, such as Flora Maxwell's clandestine marriage, and Lois's 
love affairs, do not bear upon the thread of the story as they should. They seem 
a little clumsy. As always, we find Miss Wilkins at her best in character-draw- 
ing, and some of the characters in "Jane Field" will add to Miss Wilkins's repu- 
tation. The character of Jane Field herself is a most interesting study. Hers 
is a nature which hides all its feelings and emotions behind a hard exterior. She 
is sacrificing everything, her own conscience, for the great love she bears her 
daughter ; and yet only once do we find an outward expression of that love. But 
her puritan sense of justice and right finally rebels against her actions; her mind 
gives way; and the rest of her life she repeats, " I ain't Esther Maxwell." 

Of the minor characters, Mrs. Henry Maxwell, Mrs. Babcock, and Amanda 
Pratt, one of Miss Wilkins's orthodox maiden ladies in whom she so delights, are 
the best drawn. Lois is not only the most uninteresting, but the most poorly 
drawn, of the characters. The book is well sustained, possesses a good deal of 
dramatic power, and, though inferior to her short stories, will doubtless make 
Miss Wilkins's name still more widely known. 

Helen Marie Bknnett. 

Bedford's Magazine will shortly add to its pages, under the editorship of Mr. 
John Hunt Morgan, of Lexington, Ky., a department devoted to light poetry, 
illustrated humor, anecdotes, humorous paragraphs, etc., etc. The magazine 
solicits contributions to its new department, and requests that all work be sub- 
mitted direct to John Hunt Morgan, Lexington, Ky. 

Accepted paragraphs, poems, anecdotes, etc., will be paid for at magazine rates. 

It may not be amiss to notice in this column an article by Miss Mary Whiton 
Calkins in the November number of the " American Journal of Psychology " de- 
scribing the work in experimental psychology at Wellesley College. The article 
contains much matter of general interest, especially in the latter part which gives 
some account of the results of last year's investigations in regard to " colored 
hearing' " and number forms. 


"The Kalends" for January contains an animated discussion as to the rela- 
tive advantages and disadvantages of examinations, in which the arguments con 
seem to preponderate. 


The February number devotes itself chiefly to rejoicing over the recent intro- 
duction of the cap and gown into the college. 

" The Inlander" is one of the few college magazines that is conducted on the 
principle that variety is the spice as well of literature as of life. The balance 
is well preserved between long, weighty articles and light sketches. 

The ' ' Brown Magazine " commences the new year with an interesting number ; 
its etchings especially are better than the majority of pen pictures which now fill 
college publications. 

The "Nassua Lit." comes to us full of good things as usual, and is, perhaps, 
the best of the January magazines. It contains a thoughtful and comprehensive 
criticism of Sidney Lanier's "Theory of the English Novel," several bright 
stories, and a strong sketch by Paul Burrill Jenkins. 

"The Harvard Monthly" is fortunate in having for its leading article an essay 
by Edward Everett Hale, " The Value of the Discovery made by Columbus." 

In the "University Magazine" we find an eloquent address on "Manliness," 
by President Hastings of the N.Y. Union Theological Seminary. Among the 
magazine's other noticeable features are sketches of Oxford, Columbia, and the 
College of the City of New York, a careful study of Buddhism, and a well- 
written prose poem, " The Passing of Baeda." 

Short stories abound in the "Yale Courant " for January, and are a welcome 
relief after the technical essays which college magazines are so fond of printing. 

We quote from the Brown " Daily Herald" : "The Class of '95 at Smith has 
voted to petition the faculty for permission to publish a college paper. No paper 
has been sanctioned by the faculty thus far in the history of the college." We 
wish all success to Smith in her undertaking, and congratulate '95 upon the 

In all the magazines the verse is greater in quantity and better in quality than 
it has been for some months preceding. We clip the following: — 

At Midnight. 

I stood in the vast cathedral, 

Which the night-shade pillars round, 
With the stars and sky for ceiling, 

And its pavement the marble ground, 

And over my trembling senses, 

A mighty music crept, 
From the keys of the great world-organ, 

Which the year in passing swept — 


The clash of faction and party, 

In cadences loud and shrill; 
And poverty's low, deep murmur — 

The voice that will not he still ; 

The hlending of balm and beauty; 

The wailing of woe and pain; 
The harmony mixed with disorder; 

Life's beautiful, wild refrain. 

So, with my spirit listening 

To the old year's requiem roll, 
And hearing its crashing echoes 

Go thundering through my soul, 

I stood in the world's cathedral, 

As the year was passing out, 
And the swell of the mournful music, 

Filled me with fear and doubt. 

But the stars of the vaulted ceiling, 

And the marble earth below, 
Strode on in their circling orbits, 

Unanswered by its restless flow. 

And the young year coming gently 

Bade the rushing tumult cease, 

And over the heart of the music 

There stole the calm of peace. 

— Nassua Lit. 

It was a harp of olden time, 

None knew the secret of its strings; 
A world of melody divine 

Men pass'd, intent on other things, — 
Until there came a harper gray, 

Whose soul was wrapt in mystery, 
And 'neath whose sympathetic sway 

All discord chang'd to harmony. 
What power, my friend, is this, divine, 

Which we but feel, that gently came 
And link'd thy dissonant heart with mine, 

In one inspiring, heavenly strain? 
Who is that harper calmly stealing 

Across our lives, harsh though they be, 
And with a magic art revealing 

New worlds and thoughts for you and me? 

— Yale Lit. 


Coffege (Tlofes. 

Miss Knox and Miss Sherwood received the members of the Shakespeare 
Society in the Art Building on the evening of January 21. The hours from 
seven to nine were delightfully spent by the guests in conversation, music, and 

On the same evening Misses Bixby, Tobey, Brownell, and Vivian, of Norum- 
bega cottage, entertained a number of their friends at a cobweb party. The 
entertainment of the evening included also a miniature yacht race. 

On the afternoon of January 24, Miss Coman addressed the members of the 
College Settlement Association and others interested upon the subject of the 
Boston Settlement. She explained the significence of the name, "Dennison 
House," and spoke of those methods of work in which the Boston Settlement 
differs from others. The work is now well begun, and promises to be success- 
fully carried on by the enthusiastic residents. 

A memorial service for Prof. Eben Norton Horsford was held in the Chapel 
on the evening of January 26. Music was rendered by the Beethoven Society. 
Rev. Alexander McKenzie, D.D., made the address. He said in substance: — 

The three hundred men from Iceland, Norway, and Sweden, by their songs of 
lament in their mother-tongues, fittingly manifested their love and reverence for 
the one who had brought their countries to our shore, — the one upon whom the 
King of Denmark, at his own free will, bestowed the Order of the Banner of 
Denmark, now returned to the hands that gave it. 

That laborous student, that faithful discoverer and teacher, was born in New 
York State, but of New England parentage. His father was a missionary among 
the Indians, — wild men in a wilderness. It was there he learned to speak with 
the Indians, mastering even the details of their articulation. 

His was a home of books, almost a public library, a college, where books were 
not common. Beside his sympathy with Indians, with religion, with books, 
there came a sympathy with nature. He was a geologist as a child ; a civil engi- 
neer as a boy. 

For four years he taught in Albany. He loved the young; he loved to teach. 
He then studied in Europe, with Liebig, the chemist, and on his return occupied 
for sixteen years the Rumford Professorship of Applied Sciences at Harvard. 
That was a very diligent life. He took out more than thirty patents from the 
government, rights to which had to be frequently fiercely contested. His was 
the advice sought in regard to the Boston Water Works; it was he who supplied 
rations for the army needing bread. 


At last the brain grew weary; he gave up the arduous work, and turned aside 
to the leisure so nobly earned. Out of a close friendship with a Norwegian, 
Ole Bull, there grew a great love for Norway. He visited there, caught up 
the old Sagas and Icelandic songs, traced out their history upon the map, river 
by river, and peak by peak, until at last, as he believed and made so many 
believe, he discovered the site of the ancient city itself. He wrote out the 
story of his discovery, and awakened the sympathy of all Northmen. 

Professional skill had brought him in contact with a professional man. On 
business they came out together, one summer's day, to the hills surrounding 
Waban Lake. The brilliant lawyer, the quiet Harvard professor, of about the 
same age, talked as they rested on the hill by Stone Hall, — talked of life's 
struggles, of the survival of the fittest, of the Infinite pity. Out of that talk came 
a friendship, which to them was but another name for helpfulness. Out of the 
friendship came an opportunity to give of his life for others. Next to the founder 
himself, is he a father of this college. It was to him as the child of a dear friend. 
He knew why he gave, and what was to be done with the gift. In founding the 
library, he planned that there should be books for students, books for professors, 
books for detailed consultation, and a 'place for the books of the students them- 
selves, — "The Monographs of Wellesley College," he called them. 

He believed that " time taken for rest is time taken for work." He provided 
that one year out of seven should be spent by the professors abroad. 

The ozone machine, purifying the Chapel air, the electric lighting of the 
library, are likewise his thoughtful provision. He was made an honorary mem- 
ber of the Class of '86. He dropped the "honorary" and took most active in- 
terest in their welfare. Many a young man and woman he was wont to help by 
money or a friendly letter. 

He was a man wise, generous, extremely kind and hospitable, deeply interested 
in life. Though so quiet, his was a bold Norse spirit, daring all things, patient, 
brave. He was religious, loving the church of God, regarding the spiritual 
sacraments as its very life. 

There must be high employ beyond for men like him. Not mere rest, not 
harp play, but some great thing needed beyond the stars. A great workman is 
summoned for some great service, where the laws of earth are fulfilled in the 
laws of heaven; where life is completed in the countless ages of eternity. 

The college po:.t-office was opened for the use of the students and faculty on 
Saturday, January 28. Each box has three keys, and is used for the mail of 
three students. Expressions of satis action with the new order are mingled with 



lamentations over the loss of keys, or their non-appearance at critical moments. 

Major Pond, with a courtesy that Wellesley has had opportunity to appreciate 
before, provided tickets for all who wished to attend Lieutenant Peary's lectures 
on the afternoons of February 4 and 11. Many of the students embraced the op- 
portunity of hearing the history of the latest Arctic expedition from the lips of 
the leader himself. 

Miss Charlotte H. Conant and Miss Florence Bigelow, of the Class of '84, have 
purchased a house on Walnut Hill, Natick, where they will open a preparatory 
school next September. Miss Shafer and the Misses Eastman have given the new 
enterprise their cordial support. 

The Wellesley College Glee and Banjo Club will give, on the evening of March 
4, in the Wellesley Town Hall, a concert for the benefit of St. Andrew's Parish 
and the Wellesley College Boat-House. Price of reserved seats 75 cents. Ad- 
mission 50 cents. 

The class in Constitutional History held a session of the House of Commons 
in the gymnasium Saturday evening, February 7. Owing to the prevalence of 
measles in the college, many of the invitations that had been sent out were with- 
drawn by order of the Board of Health. The audience was, therefore, smaller 
than it would otherwise have been, but it was not lacking in enthusiasm. The 
speakers were alternately cheered and hissed by the opposing factions, for every 
one present was supposed to take sides in the party strife. The costumes and 
" make-up " of the members were excellent and their speeches delivered with life- 
like fire and vigor. The following were the orators of the occasion in the order 
of their speaking : — 

House of Commons. 
(Extraordinary Session.) 

Notices of Bills. Questions. 


Chamberlain, (L. U.) Birmingham, 



(L. U.) 












(A. P.) 

Miss Young. 

" Ham. 

" White. 

' ' Barker. 

" Bigelow 

" Brooks. 

" Damon. 

" Dewey. 



Re.dmond, (P.) Wateriord, Miss Lucas. 

Hicks-Beach, (C.) Bristol, " Scandlin. 

Harrington, (P.) Dublin, " Mason. 

Macdermott, (A. P.) Kilkenny " Count. 

Motion of resolutions of want of confidence in the government. 

Matthews, (C.) Birmingham, " Frear. 

Churchill, (C.) Paddington, " Grenell. 

Burns, (Labor.) Battersea, " Freeman. 

Labouchere, (L.) Northampton, " Foley. 

Temple, (C.) Surrey, " Cleland. 

McCarthy, (A. P.) Longford, " Kendall. 

Gladstone, (L.) Midlothian, " Tomlinson. 

House adjourned. 

One of the most enjoyable concerts of the year was the song recital by Max 
Heinrich on Thursday evening, February 9. The program was a delightful one, 
including songs of both the German and English schools, and the audience had no 
fault to find with its rendering. Their enthusiasm increased with each number, 
being perhaps greatest after the last, — the "Erl-K6nig," — sung as an encore 
for Schumann's "Two Grenadiers." 

Jlociefg (Ttofes. 

On the evening of February 1, Phi Sigma initiated four new members, — 
Misses Mary Chase, Louise Warren, Inez Hopkins, and Caroline Jacobus. 
After the initiation the following program was presented : — 

Summary of the Life and Work of William Morris : — 

I. Morris's Presonality . . . . . . Susan E. Huntington 

II. Morris's Development as a Literary Artist . . . Mary Dillingham 

III. Morris's Relation to his Age ..... Lucy Hartwell 

IV. Discussion: "Is the Soul Progress of Morris Typical of the Age? " 

Opened by Mary A. Tooker. 

Miss Caroline Dresser, Miss Marian Parker, and Miss Fanny Woodford were 
the guests of that society for the evening. 

On Tuesday evening, February 7, the subject of the semester's study was 
concluded with a talk by Miss Scudder on "William Morris, and Socialism," 
delivered to Phi Sigma informally in Society Hall. 


The regular meeting of Zeta Alpha was held on the evening of Saturday, Feb- 
ruary ii, when Miss Martha McCaulley and Miss Lena Brown were welcomed 
as the guests of the society. 

The program was the first given on the present semester's subject of study, 
which is "The Outlook from the Three-Mountain City." The " outlook " is to 
be taken from the three hills as standpoints, beginning with Copp's Hill, from 
which the historical life of Boston is viewed. The following was the 
program : — 

The Puritan Town. 
I. Glimpses of Boston from the Standpoint of an Early Settler, Alethea Ledyard 
II. Old Songs 
Cousin Jedidiah . Misses Wood, Dennis, Willis, and Wilcox 

III. Boston's Indian Neighbors . . . . M. Louise Boswell 

IV. Growth of the Spirit of Independence . . . Mary P. Dennis 
V. Music — Minuet, by Boccherini .... Gertrude Bigelow 

VI. Social Life in Colonial Boston 

Paper illustrated by tableaux .... Julia S. Buffington 

The Art Society held a regular meeting in the Art Gallery, January 14, 1893. 
The following program was presented : — 

Paper : Art of the Stage ........ Miss Reed 

Paper : Art of the Actor ........ Miss Irish 

Sketches of Some Famous Actors : — 

a. Irving ........ Miss Whitlock 

b. Booth ......... Miss Hippen 

c. Bernhardt ....... Miss E. MacWilliams 

The Agora. 
Program of the regular meeting of January 14 : — 

The Functions of the Senate Miss Tobey 

Rules and Methods of Procedure of the Senate . . . Miss Weed 

The President of the Senate ....... Miss Bisbee 

The Functions of the House ...... Miss Brownell 

Rules and Methods of Procedure of the House .... Miss Slater 

The Speaker of the House ....... Miss Burgess 

New Members : 
Miss Grace Dewey, '93. Miss Caroline Field, '94. 

Miss Helen Mason, '93. Miss Arline Smith, '95. 


Coffege Q&uffefm. 

Feb. 22. Washington's Birthday. Concert by the Glee and Banjo Clubs in the 
College Chapel. 

Feb. 26. Prof. Curtis of Boston University preaches in the Chapel. 

Feb. 27. Lecture by the Rev. W. Hudson Shaw on "■ Wilburforce." 

March 13. Lecture on " Whittier" by Mr. Horace Scudder. 

March 19. Rev. Frederick Palmer of Andover preaches in the Chapel. 

Maich 23. Term ends. 

$fumnae (Tlofes. 

A meeting of the Chicago Wellesley Club was held with Miss Mary Lyman, 
Saturday, January 28. In spite of the very disagreeable weather, thirty mem- 
bers of the club were present. Mrs. Alice Freeman Palmer, who was the guest 
of the afternoon, spoke at some length of the great loss which the month of Jan- 
uary had brought to the college, to the Board of Trustees, and to the classes of 
'86 and '89, in the death of Prof. Eben Horsford and Bishop Phillips Brooks. 
The members of the club were much interested in hearing of the many changes 
which had come to the college since the days when they were a part of its life. 
In response to a letter of request from Prof. Whiting, Miss Helen Hill, '92 
was delegated by the club to confer with the committee at the college upon the 
Wellesley exhibit at the World's Columbian Exposition. The remainder of the 
afternoon was spent in social intercourse. 

The last monthly meeting of the Washington State Wellesley Club was held 
on November n at the house of Mrs. Charlotte Miller Middlebrook, '91. 
Representatives of several of the different classes were present. The aim of the 
club thus far has not been for any definite line of study, but rather for mutual 
friendship and helpfulness. 

A Wellesley party was held during the Christmas holidays at Northfield, Minn. 
The participants were Mrs. Soule Metcalf, '80, Miss Edith Metcalf, '80, Miss 
Florence Soule, '89, and Miss Alice Libby, '89. 

Miss Edith Metcalf, '80, is at Mr. Moody's Bible Institute, 230 La Salle Avenue, 

The friends of Miss Jessie Allen, '87, will be sorry to learn that she has been 
very seriously ill with typhoid fever. She has been taken from St. Louis home, 
and by latest reports was convalescent. 

Miss Catharine Burrowes, '87, passed ten days of her Christmas vacation with 
Miss Caroline L. Williamson, '89. 


Miss Adelaide Dennis, '87, is teaching in St. Louis. 

Miss Clara M. Keefe, '87, is studying music in Boston. The address is 
77 West Rutland Square. 

Miss Edith True, '87, still has charge of the education of the Misses Hunne- 

Miss Mary E. Parker, '87, has charge of the music in the public schools of 
Altoona, Pa. 4600 pupils come under her supervision. Her address is 1501 
Seventh Avenue. 

Miss Marion Ely, '88, has recently enjoyed a California trip. 

Miss May Cook, '88, is studying under Miss Talbot and Professor Moulton at 
the University of Chicago. 

Miss Louise Magone, '89, is teaching Greek and English literature at the High 
School in Marinette, Wis. 

Miss Alice Libby, '89, is teaching Greek and Latin in the Hardy School, 
•Duluth, Minn. 

Miss Grace Lee, '89, is at home in Springfield, Mass. 

Miss Louise Pearsons, '89, has charge of the Mathematics in the Preparatory 
Department of the Northwestern University, Evanston. 

The engagement of Miss Dorothy Dole, '89, is announced. 

Miss May Margaret Fine, '89, has been visiting in Chicago and Louisville. 

Miss Louise Pinney, '89, is teaching in a private school in Los Angeles. 

Miss Leona Lebus, '89, is teaching in the High School in the same city. 

Miss Anita Whitney, '89, has been traveling in the East since the class reunion 
in June. 

Miss Jennie Dingley, spec. '85-'89, is teaching in Poughkeepsie, N. Y. 

Miss May Banta, '89, who is living in the village of Wellesley, has nine 
lecture hours and sixteen laboratory hours a week in a chemistry course at the 
Massachusetts Institute of Technology. 

Miss Ruth Abbott, '89, is occupying the position held by Miss Caro Drew, 'S9, 
in Brookfield, Conn. 

Miss Katharine J. Lane, '89, is again at Freehole, N.J., as teacher in the 
Young Ladies' Seminary. 

The address of Mrs. Mary Walker Porter, '89, for the winter, is 266 State 
Street, Bridgeport, Conn. 


Miss Mary Lowe Stevens, '89, is still teaching in the Prospect High School, 
Greenfield, Conn. 

Miss Katharine Horton, '89, is a teacher of Mathematics at the Connecticut 
Literary School, Suffield, Conn. 

A series of articles on German life by Miss Ethel Paton, '89, have recently 
appeared in the "New York Herald." 

Miss Abbee Carter Goodloe, '89, has a review of Agnes Repplier's latest book 
in the " Christian Union" lor Dec. 24, '92. 

Miss Alice Brewster, '89, retains her position in Trenton, N.J. 

The members of the Class of '89 will be interested to know that Raymond 
Whiton Thompson, " the boy of the rattle," continues to do credit to his aunts. 
His home is 5 Pine Street, Concord, N.H. 

Miss Jane Freeman, '90, on her way from Montana to New York, visited 
Mrs. Charlotte Allen Farnsworth in Colorado, Miss May E. Cook, '88, in 
Chicago, and Miss Belle Sherwin, '90, in Cleveland. In the spring she will 
return to her ranch life. 

Miss Fannie Knapp, '90, is making a collection ot Alaskan folk-lore in her 
home in Sitka. 

Miss May West, '91, is visiting in Chicago and Minnesota. She will not 
return East until summer. 

Miss Emma M. Squiers, '91, is teaching in Corning, N.Y. Her address for 
the remainder of the year will be 159 East 1st Street, Corning, N.Y. 

Miss Emily Stewart, '92, is spending the winter in California. 

Miss Agnes Holbrook, '92, entered upon residence at Hull House, Chicago, 
Feb. 1 st. 

Miss Candace Stimson, '92, has been visiting in Chicago. 


Castle — Wing. la Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands, Dec. 25, 1892, Mabel K. Wing, '87, 
of Lexington, Mass., to Henry N. Castle of Honolulu. 

Appleton— Follett. At St. Johnsbury, Vt., Dec, 1892, Lena Follett, '89, to Kev. 
Frank Appleton. Their home will be, in St. Johnsbury, Vt. 

Packahd— Howk. At Chicago, Jan. 23, 1893, Caroline Howe, '80-88, to George 
Packard. At home after April 1st. 1922 Barry Avenue. 

MlTCHELSON — ELY. At Windsor, Conn., Dec. 31, 1892, May Violet Ely, '87, to Ariel 
Mitchelson, jr. 




To Mrs. Camille Gowans Sikes, '90, Jan. 7, 1893, a son, Frederick Gilbert, jr. 

To Mrs. Mary Meriam Coman, '84, Nov. 20, 1892, a daughter, Harriett. 

To Mrs. Sylvia Foote Gosnell, '89, Sept., 1892, a son, Frank Lemuel. 

To Mrs. Mary Zimmerman Fisk, '89, Dec. 23, 1892, a son. 

To Mrs. Laura Lyon Williams, '87, Jan. 7, 1893, twin daughters. 


In Philadelphia, Feb. 3, Dr. Spencer C. Devan, leaving two children and a widow, 
Harriet Beecher Scoville Devan, of '83. 

June 26, 1892, in Harrisburg railroad accident, Mr. E. M. Whitlock, father of M. 
Blanche Whitlock, '92. 

Franklin Hubber Go. 



{Near Washington Street?) 



Babies' 5ine 

<t3oob0 * * * 


. . AND . . 


« +%> . 

Everything Made 

of Rubber. 










Offer an unequalled line of small but pretty 
and inexpensive conceits and notions of Japanese 
manufacture, suitable for prizes, favors, etc. 

54 Summer Street, 

Boston, Mass. 


n Qi 4\n< 

lowles vjompany, 

&- ■■■■ ■ -r > r / 

Importers and Retailers of 


15 Winter Street, BOSTON. 

Special attention given to young people's Fancy 
Dress Shoes. 

Usual College Discounts given. 

H. H. Carter & Co., 

Stationers and Engravers, 


20 per Gent. Discount 

on purchases made by 

Students from Wellesley College. 

3 Beacon Street, 

Your attention io called to our stock of 


Toilet and Desk Funishings in Sterling and Plated Silver. 


Marble and Iron Clocks, $8.00 to $20.O0. 

Stock in all departments always complete. 

A, Stowell & Co, 

24 Winter Street, 


New Pictures. 

Etchings, Engravings, Photographs, just 
received from the hest American, English, French, 
and German publishers. 

The largest and finest stock to select from in 
New England, — and prices satisfactory. 

Special attention to Artistic Framing. 

1 90 Boylston Street, - - Boston. 

Artists' Materials. 


Art Studies and Books. 

Oil and Water Colors; Crayons; Materials 
for -Tapestry, Painting, etc. 

Wadsmorth, Houiland & Go.. 

82 & 84 Washington St., Boston. 
Principal Factories 1 MAU g^' ls ^ A ^ s ,-, 


Sharks !E. IFess. 


Umbrellas, Parasols and Canes. 

Special attention given to covering and repairing. 

9 Temple Place, 

A. N. Cook & Co., 

Importers, Manufacturers, Jobbers and Dealers in 

Fine Hats and Fine Furs, 

377 & 379 Washington St., 
Opp. Franklin St., BOSTON. 







Gloves and Veiling. 

/T\iss /T\. p. fisk;, 


Sails fije erfferjfiar) of il)e Vourja ISaaies fe Ijer sfoclj of r)ia> 0r) el res seel xjiel, ar)a Hoef ©^irj Aleves, 

frjaf are suitable for all occasions, e/llso to r>er verv kecorrjirva sloclj of Veilirjejs. 

e/lrja solicits il)eir pafrorjaae, eTrja will aive to any of Il)e ©iueler)fs © per cerjf. aisceVurjf. 


by people who have tried it that the quickest and surest relief for 
all Bronchial affections, Coughs, Huskiness, etc., 'is 

Bronchial Cough 


It was never advertised until the demand from the successful use 
of the Syrup promised its general use. 

Physicians, Ministers, Public Speakers, Singers, are now sending 
for it from all parts of the United States. 

25 Cents a Bottle at Druggists. 

Physicians' Prescriptions carefully prepared. All the Drugs 
and Druggists' Sundries needed in the home always in stock. 

WM. A. CHAPIN, Apothecary, 

Under U. S. Hotel, Boston. 




Opposite Railroad Station, Wellesley. 

Cut Flowers and Plants of the Choicest Varieties on 
hand. Floral designs for all occasions arranged at 
shortest notice. Orders by mail or otherwise promptly 
attended to. Flowers carefully packed and forwarded to 
all parts of the United States and Canada. 

in all Departments 
of Literature . . 

can be found at our store. The largest 
assortment in Boston of the popular and 
standard authors. Also a large variety at 
special reductions. Large variety of Bibles, 
Prayer Books, Booklets, etc. 


De Wolfe, Fiske & Co., 

The Archway Bookstore, 

361 & 365 Washington Street, 


(T\r$. U/. B. <?roel\er, 

Importer and Designer of 

fine * $lM\nay, 

494 Washington St., Boston. 



Wellesley Pharmacy, 

%\\f\$. U/. P^V, proprietor. 


Physicians' Prescriptions a Specialty. 

Finest Roadbed on the Continent. 




First Glass Thfoagh Gar Roate 

To the West. 

Through Trains leave Boston as follows: 

8.30 a. m. (ex. Sunday) Day Express. 
10.30 a. in. (daily) Chicago Special. 
2.00 p. m. (daily) North Shore Limited. 
3.00 p. in. (ex. Sunday) St. Louis 

5.00 p. in. (daily) Cincinnati and St. Louis Special. 
7.15 p. in. (daily) Pacific Express. 

Springfield Line 


Hartford, New Haven and New York, 

9.00 A. M. 

11.00 A. M. 

* 12.00 Noon 

4.00 P. M. 

11.00 P. M. 


(ex. Sunday) 3.30 P. M. 

(ex. Sunday) 5 .30 P. M. 

(ex. Sunday) 5.40 P. M. 

(daily) 10.00 P. M. 

(daily) 7.41 A. M. 

♦This train in composed entirely of drawing-room 
cars, and special ticket which entitles holder to seat 
in drawing-room car required ; tickets will not be 
sold beyond seating capacity of train. 

For tickets, information, time-tables, etc., 
apply to nearest ticket agent. 







TT is difficult to fit the right adjective to this desk. 
1 It needs a new one, fresh-made, to rightly describe it. 

Inside it is a perfect warren of convenience. 
The sub-divisions were planned by a clever mind, 
who had a good ear for questions and answered 
them all. 

The drawer arrangement is excellent. Round 
the top runs a brass gallery for guarding books or 

All this means nothing to you till you know 
the price. You will scarcely believe that this is one 
of the cheapest desks in our collection. 


Paine's Furniture Co., 

48 CANAL ST., BOSTON. [ftgfflfSiK"] 

Fine Carpets. 

The finest line of specialties in 

Axminsters, Wiltons, and 
Brussels Carpets 

ever offered by us. 
These are all our patterns, with a full line of the 



jts . '. and. '. Mammersmitr) . '. I \uc 






163 to 169 WASHINGTON ST., 






Discount to Wellesley Students. 

walnut hill 
Wellesley # Preparatory, 



Thorough preparation for Wellesley and other 

Colleges for Women. 

References :— Pres. Shafer, Wellesley College, 
the Misses Eastman, Dana Hall, and others. 


Circulars on application. 

Charlotte H. Conant, B.A., } Pr : nrirals 
Florence Bigelow, M.A., } ' nnci P aib - 

Cotrell & Leonard, 





Illustrated Catalogue and particulars 
on application. 

AN IDEM. STUB PEN — Esterbrook's Jackson Stub, No. 442. 
A specially EASY WRITER, a COOD INK HOLDER and a DELIGHT to those 
per gross. THE ESTERBROOK STEEL PEN CO., 26 John St., New York. 

Manufacturers and Dealers in 

Steam Launches, Sail Boats, Row Boats, Canoes, 

First-class work done at reasonable rates. Particular attention given to Light Cedar Boats and Canoes. 

The Director of the Gymnasium and the Captains of the Boat-crews testify to the 
satisfaction which our work has given in Wellesley. 

Warerooms, 394 Atlantic Ave., 


Harriette Anthony, 



Studio, 154 Tremont Street, 



Sj^i/E, <?RU(r\p 9 cou/ op., 

147 Tremont Street, Corner of West, 

Jewellers and. Silversmiths. 


PROGRAMS and INVITATIONS, both printed and engraved. Class Day programs a specialty. 

CLASS PINS designed and manufactured to order. 

PARASOLS and UMBRELLAS made to order, re-covered and repaired. 

o«AnoH op 863/y I46 Tremont St. 

Broadway, N. Y. *S BOSTON 

y Choice ^election of Kancy Baskets, Doxes and Uonbonnieres constantl' 

on panel at very reasonable prices. 

Pleasurable Exercise. 


1 r 

The gymnasium is now universally recog- 
nized as a necessary adjunct to a college 
education. But there comes a time when the 
weather is too warm and outdoors too inviting 
to work inside. Then what is better for all- 
around exercise than the bicycle ? It will 
take you swiftly along the smooth streets 
of the city or carry you out into the 
fresh air of the open country. Back again 
to your study 



with clear brain and quiet nerves. But your 
nerves will not be quiet if your bicycle does 
not run easily, so get a Columbia, for Colum- 
bias run easiest, wear longest, and look the 

Have you ever thought of taking a bicycle 
tour during vacation ? 

We have a finely illustrated book about 
Columbia bicycles. Send to us for one. 



Reasons why this Bureau has gained and 
deserves the Confidence and Patronage 
of so large a Constituency of Teachers 
and School Officers all over the Nation : 

(1) Because it is the oldest Teachers' Agency in New 

England, having been established in 1875. 

(2) Because its Manager for the last eleven years is 

a professional educator, and has become 
familiar with the conditions and wants of every 
grade of schools, and the necessary qualifica- 
tions of teachers. 

(3) Because the number of our candidates is large 

and embraces many of the ablest teachers, 
male and female, in the profession. 

(4) Because ail applications for teachers receive 

prompt and careful attention. 

( 5 ) Because our pledges for fair dealing and devotion 

to the interests of our patrons have been 

No charge to School Officers. Forms and 
circulars sent FREE. Register now for the Autumn 
vacancies for Winter and Spring as well, as the de- 
mand is constant. Apply to 

3 Somerset Street, Boston. 










y^' Bruises 


If -will Cure. 

Wellesley College 





MARCH 4th 

. . AT . . 

. 7.30 P.M. . 
Reserved Seats, 75 Cents. 

Admission, 50 Cents. 



Who Ride 


or Attend 




Qood Sense 

Corset Waists. 

Full or Slim BUST. Long or Short WAIST. 
ALL SHAPES. White, Drab or Black. 


Send for illus. 'C'C'D'PTC TJDfJQ Manufacturers 
circular to rJJl\.I\10 JjIyUOo? and Patentees, 

341 Broadway, New Yerk. 


©ana §a« ♦ £c§oof , 


Pupils are prepared tor regular or for special 
courses at Wellesley College. 

* -&- -4. •&■ 

Price for Board and Tuition, $500 for the 
school year ; tuition for day pupils, $125. 

For f urthur information, address the Principals : 

Jilia A. Eastman. 
Sarah P. Eastman. 



fif)e«lic<al S<2>H< 



Session '92-'93 opens October 1st, 1892. Three years Graded Course. Instruction by Lectures, Clinics, 
Recitations and practical work, under supervision in Laboratories and Dispensary of College, and in U. S. 
Infirmary. Clinics and operations in most of the City Hospitals and Dispensaries open to Women Students. 
For Catalogues etc., address 


321 East l£th Street, New York. 

SHE. This is the easiest and 
most comfortable wheel 1 ever 

HE. Of course. We ride 
Columbia Pneumatics, and 
they hold the market on com- 

Catalogues free. 

"The Finest in the Land." 


Orders receive prompt atten- 
tion leftwith 

D. Daekett, flgt, 



Yes, lots of them. 

Big lamps to stand on the floor. 

Medium sized lamps to put on tables. 

Little lamps to go and sit in a corner with 

when you don't feel sociable. 

All these and many more. 

Buy one if you want to make your room 

Never before was there such variety of design, 
or such beauty of execution. 
Never were the shades so artistic. 
Never were the prices so low. 
Come and see. 



Opposite R. H. White & Co.'s. 


Our Fall Importations have come, and the assortment, both as to qualities and shades, is very com- 
plete. Special attention is called to the following grades : 

" LENOX." — This is our own exclusive make of Glove. It has given thorough satisfaction to 
our best customers for several years. It is a strictly first quality Suede Glove. This season's importation 
includes all the staple shades and some new shades. The following styles are very popular : 7-Hook 
Foster Lacing at #1.65 per pair, and 6-Button Mousquetaire at #1.75 per pair. We also carry this last 
Glove in lengths from 4 to 30 Buttons. 

DENT'S LONDON GLOVES.— We make a specialty of Dent's English Gloves. They 
are specially adapted for Driving and for Street Wear. This season's importation includes a popular style 
of Castor Gloves at #1.00 per pair. 



Tremont Street & Temple Place, - - . - - BOSTON. 


Boston and Brookline, Mass. 

""•^O "t *v "V" "V C** - 

open every Monday and Tuesday. 

Duplicates of last year portraits and Tree-day 
groups can be had at the Wellesley Studio. 



Everett O. Fisk & Co., Proprietors. 



4 Ashburton Place, Boston, Mass 


W. B. HERRICK, . 4 Ashburlon Place, Boston, Mass. 

L.N. ANDREWS, . . . 4 Ashburton Place, Boston, Mass. 
MARTHA HO AG, . . . 4 As fi burton Place, Boston, Mass. 
H.E.CROCKER, . . . 70 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 

B. F. CLARK, .... 706 Wabush Avenue, Chicago, III. 
A. G. FISHER, . . .371 Main Street, Hartford Conn. 
I.C. HICKS, .... j 31 Thidrd Street, Portland, Ore. 

C. C. BOYNTON, . . 120 r-2 So. Spring St., Los Angeles, Cal. 

Send to any of the above agencies for 100-page Agency Manual. 
Correspondence with employers is invited. Registeration forms sent 
to teachers on application.